


Better to fight and fall than to live without hope

by Korva_Chthonic



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Anime References, F/M, Games, Gen, Getting powers, Hurt Loki (Marvel), Hurt/Comfort, Loki (Marvel) Gets a Hug, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Loki wasn't the bad guy in The Avengers, Mind Control, OC/Self insert - Freeform, Panic Attacks, Screw canon we make our own canon up in here, Self-Insert, Sensory Deprivation, Suicidal Thoughts, The Grape Will Die a Horrible Death, The Void, Thor (Marvel) is a Good Bro, Torture, so many feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-02-08 11:23:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18622348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Korva_Chthonic/pseuds/Korva_Chthonic
Summary: Clara Wessling, unwitting dimensional displacee, finds herself neck-deep in the Void that Loki fell into.And keeps falling. And falling. And oh look! There's Loki.A tale of angst, comfort, and the occasional awesome fight. Because what's the Marvel Cinematic Universe without the action?





	1. THE VOID

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The VOID. Dun dun dun!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been working on this for the last week, and Endgame just pushed me to post it. Prepare for feels. And snarky characters.

_F̒̊̋a̅̑̌̂l̂ͮ̃͐̚lͧ̋̇_   
_ͪ͌ͣnͪ̌̄͛̾õͪ͋ͨ_   
_̀͗̾̊̊ ͮ̆ ̆ ͑̈ͤ͐ͭ̅̃ ̏́͆͂ ̄̾̈ ̇̋ͥ͐̆̌̓Fͯ̿à͑l͂͌l̈́̓_   
_͂ͮͮ̏ ̄̅̃͐ͪ̓̏ ͪͩ͒ͫ͌ ̆ͫͦ́̋F̔ͫ̉a̎̈́l̐͗͋ͮlͯ͑̂̋_   
_̌ͧ̐̿̆͂ ̐͂̃̌ ͣͨͧ̐ͨ͛̆ ͭ̑́ͬ͂ͧͮ ̓ͨ͊ ̑̔̀ͪ ̀̿ ̍̄͗̎̑̃ͪ ̿ͨ̎͆̀ ̋͛̉͑ͬ̋ͨ ̓̏ͦ̎F͊a͆l̂͂l̽ͬͯͩ_   
_́͒̒nͯ̃ͤ̈ͣ̂̒o͌̎ͯ_ _  
_ _ńͣ̇o͑̋ͥ̓̅nͧ̇ŏͣ̚noͨ͊͑̊ͥno͂̉ͨ̓_

_͂͋̀̾̃̓hͩeͮͬ̒̋ͫl̋ͫͮp̽ͣ̅ ̎ͤ̐ͮͧ̈́ͧm̋̍̌̉̐eͨ͛̽̓̑ ̆̌ͦ̏p̓ͪͩl͗e̔͊a͌̾̏ͪͥsͧͩ̃͊͊̂eͯͨ̐ͪ͊̓_

_thor please_   
_̋̉ͯͫ͆̉̂ ̏̎̎̆̉ͬ́ ̎̆ͩ̀ͥ̎ ͂͗ͭͮͯͣ̐ ͋̿ͧ͗ ͫ͌ͨ̉̎̃̃ ̋͊ͭ̿̋̌_   
_̈̇̽̑̏ͦ̅F͑̾ͧ̇ͣ̿̑a̐̋̌̂̈l̈̽ͩͫ͐ͮͨl̄_   
_ͧ̿̌͛ͩ̆_ _  
_ _̆̄̄̄͆ͪ̾N͐̿̂̎͂on͆onoͪ̌ͮ͛ͩ̋͊nͣo ̂ͧ̐͊̓_

 _nͬ̈́o̎̀͑̾̑̚ pͦͯ̈́l̓̋̂̚eͪa̔̀s̉̽͂ͭeͩͮͨ̋ͩ̉̌_   
_ͫ̔͆͗̒_   
_̂͒͗Nͯͣ̊O_   
  
_ͯ͆ͦ̌ͮ͒̽ ͧ̃͊ ͛ͭFͥͪͣ̂̈a̎̑͑ͨ͛͒l̇ͪl͐ͥ͗ͬͯ_   
_͋_   
_̄ͥ͋cͫ̓͋͑ȁͯ̃ͭn̽'̆̋̃ͦ̒̾t̏̋̀̽̾ ͋ͪ̒͑̾̑_   
_̌ͧ̎s̒tỏ͛̒ͭ͑p͑ ̏̐̉_ _  
_ _͗̂fͤ͒ͯa̎ͭl̂̀ͤͭ̍̄liͧͫͥ͆̃n̓ͮͣ̾̍g̽ͩ̃ͦ͊̊!ͩ̈́_

From all sides there was nothing. Nothing nothing _nothing nothing_ **_nothing nothing_ ** as far as he could see, which was approximately nothing except the strange illumination of his own pale skin. No sensation of air curled around his quivering form. Nothing could be heard except his shallow breathing and the occasional desperate scream that ripped from his throat, and the loud pulsations of his heart in his head.

He endlessly plunged, vocals rubbed raw from the sheer terror that refused to fade, even _daysmonthsyears_ after he'd started falling. Hallucinations haunted his mind in flashes of _goldgreenredwhite_ , scenes of the past and of everything he'd ever lost.

Thor was there, laughing, laughing _laughing_ at him with all of Asgard and screaming his name- _“Loki! NO!”_ \- Fath- _Odin,_ with his one eye filled with disappointment and shame- _“No, Loki.” -_ and he was reminded of over and over and over again that he was _never_ good enough, never would be able to make Fa- _Odin_ proud, never get the people to look at him as something other than a _coward_ , _liar, trickster._

Mother was occasionally there, arms winding their way around his trembling shoulders, comforting whispers laden in his ears until they were drowned out by the rest of the oppressive voices crowding his thoughts. _Always in the shadows never loved never never never NEVER! Should never have lived, and now can't even die properly- a failure, failure FAILURE_ **_FAILURE_ ** _-_ they all chanted, drilling into every corner of his quaking, vulnerable mind.

 _“I'll hunt down the monsters down and slay them all!”_ rang through his head, and all he could think was that Thor would see only the Frost Giants he'd pledged to destroy.

As he clutched himself tightly in the dark, the prince's hands were no longer the white of an Aesir. They showed only the pale blue of a Jotun _monster_ , frost sparkling at the tips of the fingers. _“Unfeeling, savage beasts.”_

 _Monster, monster  MONSTER!_ the voices whispered incessantly. _You were always a monster hidden in plain sight, a Jotun pretender._

A hysterical sob ripped from his chest, full of despair and self loathing as Loki plunged down down down into the abyss between realms, leaving a trail of tears in his wake.

 

* * *

 

Clara Wessling last remembered getting all dolled up in her favorite nightie, finally going to bed after staying up to finish another stupid paper. College was supposed to be worth it in the end, but the stubborn, impatient teenager in her begged to differ. Why couldn't she just get her degree already and move on?

At any rate, she'd just fallen asleep, or she thought she did, when her umber eyes shot wide open in a groggy confusion. Her body was plunging downwards somehow, cloud patterned nightie rippling above her with her brunette locks. Still somewhat sleepy, the woman dared to look downwards.

And there was absolutely nothing below her.

Clara's mind shrieked to a stop and panic tore through the veil leftover from her rest, screams ripping from her throat. “This has to be a dream!” she screeched, limbs flailing uselessly in the darkness.

This couldn't be real. It couldn't it couldn't it _couldn't._ This was just some product of her tired, terrified mind, after a stressful night of work and stuff. Clara Wessling was dreaming. She _had_ to be dreaming.

Nightmares were just that, bad dreams, right? The woman was really at home in her crappy apartment, asleep in her bed and probably twisting out of her sheets. It wouldn't be the first time it had happened, after all.

This was a strangely lucid dream though. She'd never had one of those before.

And pain made you wake up from dreams, right? So, just had to hurt herself, and she'd be awake, out of this place.

Clara bit her cheek deeply, but didn't expect the blossom of fire that grew from it, flooding her mouth with blood. She spat it out quickly, and the glittering red droplets quickly shot away into the abyss around her.

Oh. Oh stars. This was actually real, wasn't it?

Her nightgown and tangled hair rippled in some unfeelable wind that pushed past her and on upwards into the ebony sky, the fall seemingly endless. Her dad would've loved this, with the skydiving potential present in this place, devoid of anything but her.

She was alone. Completely alone. Without even a thing to break up the monotony of the suffocating darkness.

A thrill of fear rang through her shocked mind as she recalled some facts from her psychology class regarding complete and total isolation.

Deterioration of mental abilities. Hallucinations. _Inevitable insanity_.

She would probably die here, driven to the brink of her mind without her family, friends, no one to talk to. And to make things worse, the deprivation of any stimuli besides the sensation of her thundering heart, the pull of gravity tugging her downwards, and the feeling of salty tears dripping behind her.

Oh. Her hand came back wet. She was crying. Not that surprising, with the fact that Clara had just lost everything she'd ever had.

The woman fell forever and ever, panic numbing into a dull acceptance for the inevitable. She lost track of time, but didn't seem to be able to fall asleep either. One more thing that was gone.

Nothing seemed real, and she'd begun to see flashes of light at the edges of her vision. There were the hallucinations, right on schedule. And a faint noise, sort of like a distant shriek.

It came more into focus, transforming from a dull, far off drone into a scream that was filled with despair and anguish, a heart wrenching noise of primal emotion. Her soul twisted painfully at the sound, but she reminded herself that it was still probably not real. Her heart was hardened again until the noise continued to grow louder over the seconds(?).

Was...was someone else actually here? In this void that devoured you, soul and body, until there was nothing left but an empty husk? That would explain the screaming.

A faint hope sprouted in her breast, and Clara tried to look around for the source, if there was one. She perked her ears and tried to pinpoint it more accurately.

The sounds of human suffering drew closer, her heart throbbing with every cry of fear and pain. A wet thing splattered her cheek, jolting her at the sudden sensation, and almost apprehensively, she looked downwards.

A person came into view, somehow visible despite the distinct lack of light. Tear drops spilled upwards from the prone figure, which explained the thing just a few seconds- _was it seconds?_ \- before.

The figure, however, sent a jolt through her entire system like lightning, worldview bursting apart like an overcharged bulb. He was familiar, with long ebony tresses, green and gold leather armor, and skin as pale as the snows he'd originated from.

This was Loki, Prince of Asgard, Prince of Jotunheim, fictional character of the MCU, and they were both

    **F**

**A**

**L**

**L        F**

**I     A**

**N    L**

**G      L**

**I**

**N**

**G**

Through the bottomless pit where the Bifrost once was.

The terrified confusion was swept away by another keen of fear and helplessness that shook Clara to her core. Impulsively, she narrowed her body into an arrow, diving experience guiding her moves. Somehow, it worked, and the human was getting closer, closer-! Until her hand grasped the tail of his fluttering cloak, and tugged herself up to get a better grip on him.

The woman wrapped her arms around the Asgardian trickster, locking them in place around his waist so she wouldn't lose him. Verdant green eyes flashed open in terror and Loki began thrashing with a primal panic, his cries picking up as he tried to wriggle away from the sudden influx of sensation. Her own skin tingled at the almost foreign feeling of other objects, goosebumps raising on the skin.

Clara simply held tighter, and a dam seemed to break, releasing a flood of tears. “Loki! Someone's here! I'm here! You're not alone anymore!” she yelled desperately above the cacophony he was making.

_ I'm not alone anymore! _ she silently added, a fresh wave of tears sullying his chest piece.

She continued in that vein for an indeterminate amount of time, words of comfort given all the while for both her sake and his. The human ignored every panicked scream that hit her in his frenzy, only concerned with keeping him in her arms. He seemed to finally give in, slumping in her grasp.

How long had he been falling, alone, in this empty void? How on earth did Loki even originally survive it, with little to no sensory input, no one to talk to but the inevitable hallucinations that flooded his mind?

She certainly couldn't have. Clara suppressed her own questions of how long  _ she'd _ been here, either.

It would drive a lesser man insane from sheer loneliness, and in  _ Avengers  _ he'd seemed at least halfway there already.

She was snapped out of her wonderings at the sound of his hoarse voice, raw after screaming so much. “W-who…?” Loki whispered, seemingly confused. “Not...hallucination…”

Her heart broke a little more at the desperate, hopeful undertone the question had, and too close to her own feelings not to hit home. The woman looked up at him, eyes teary, and rubbed his back reassuringly, making him relax slightly. “I'm Clara Wessling. Midgardian. No idea how I ended up here, but you sounded like you needed help.” She gave a shaky grin.

Those green eyes widened, vulnerable and shocked for a second before a hardened mask was slammed over them. “I need no help from mortals such as yourself.”

Clara blinked, then things got blurry and her throat grew a lump. Would he reject her and leave her stranded in the void, all over again,  _ alone- _ “Please let me. I-I won't let you convince me otherwise!” she choked out in a somewhat brave tone.

“Forgive me if I don't want to try to convince a Midgardian of anything,” he drawled, not answering her question. “Your ilk are a very stubborn lot.”

Even as he spoke casually, Loki's shoulders were tense and weary still, body language stiff. He seemed unaware of the misting at the edges of his eyes, pupils darting and dilated like a cornered animal.

A sudden surge of protectiveness shot through her, and she shoved her conflicting feelings to the side for now. She pulled him into a proper hug, nestling his head into the crook of her neck and rubbing circles into his back.

Clara only hoped that Loki didn't get triggered and punch her for this, but she had to do  _ something _ . Especially since she hadn't had the chance to do much of anything recently.

“It's okay to cry, y'know,” the woman murmured in his ear.

His tense muscles pulled taut in a way that suggested Loki was shocked at the sudden touch, his hands visibly twitching and seemingly at war with a pair of impulses. A tremble made its way through his body beneath her pale arms, transforming into a sob choked with pure emotion. He finally gave in and burrowed his face into her neck, releasing a louder noise of distress, curling his own limbs around Clara like she might disappear at any moment, leaving him alone.

Here was a man who'd lost everything. The only home he'd ever had, the family that turned out he wasn't truly part of, the very identity he'd made for himself- all lost in one, blinding whirl of rage, lies, and sheer  _ desperation _ to make his family proud.

And who else comforted him but a woman who'd lost just the same, and experienced the same terrible, isolating void around them. She was torn from her home universe, sent adrift among one that hadn't even been  _ real _ a scant few hours(?) before. She was ripped from her loving family- crazy daredevil dad, emotionally prone mother, and gaggle of siblings that followed her around like lost little ducklings. She probably didn't even exist here.

To be honest, Clara probably had it a little better than Loki. She hadn't found out her entire identity was a lie, after all. Finding out that her worldview was a sham kind of paled in comparison to that.

Even so, her own eyes moistened for what had to be the fiftieth time, breath hitching and shuddering at the thought of her family, and the relief of having someone,  _ anyone _ around.

  
.


	2. Song for the Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki and Clara talk and banter and angst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everybody for all the reviews and kudos! If you enjoy the story, review at the bottom, leave a kudos and subscribe!
> 
> You guys are awesome! ^_^

They were still falling infinitely through that stupid abyss, and Clara was more bored now than fearful for her sanity and life. Did this place even have a bottom, or were they just hurtling through an endless wormhole in the fabric of reality with no stop?

Meh, they'd find out sooner or later. The void seemed to put some sort of stasis on the body, suppressing any bodily urges she may have had. It would've sucked to slowly starve to death, and leave this complete wreck of a god to cling to her body until insanity claimed him-

_Aaand_ _that's enough depressing thoughts for one day. I had enough when I was alone, and not gonna fall that way again. Hopefully._

So she decided to take a risk. It was poking the sleeping bear, but when said bear was the only other living thing within a frickin’ wormhole/void thing...Clara would take her chances with the rabid bear.

“Yo. Loki. Lokester. Loki doki. Loooookiiiiii-”

A poisonous green glare was sent her way, turning away after Clara was sufficiently silenced. She stuck her tongue out in retaliation, pouting when he didn't react. She noticed his cheeks were still slightly red from the crying fit they'd both had earlier. Her own eyes were still fairly puffy, dried tear tracks staining her face.

As soon as the prince had shed enough tears, he'd given off a dismayed squawk and shoved the Midgardian away. The only thing keeping them from losing each other in the blackness was a glowing magical tether Loki had conjured in his haste, roughly a yard in length. She absently thrummed the translucent green cord, getting only a small twang out of it.

Since the separation, the god had glanced Clara's way at least thrice in the past hour (or what she perceived to be an hour at any rate), disbelief and loneliness clear in Loki's eyes. Frustratingly, the god seemed to be reluctant to act on it, content stare at her like some kind of freakshow instead. Like she was the most confusing thing that he couldn't quite make sense of.

She absently wondered if he would enjoy a Rubix cube. Loki seemed like a puzzle kind of guy.

Clara shifted into a more comfortable position, crossing her legs and grabbing her ankles. At least like this, it felt like she wasn't constantly plunging. But still she fidgeted, the quiet bearing down on her nerves.

Screw having a moment of silence, this was getting ridiculous. She began to hum a tune, filling their dreary black prison with the sound of Kaine’s _ Salvation _ . Loki perked his ears at the foreign lyrics that began to filter through.

“Sjool paran moy'hi   
Ar jar'ruk noy' sin   
Dha gya'left tal fooyryuu   
Malich fuide aslaat erensboiye

Yool ta tiera hareiku hare   
Falan leiu hoo   
Yool migietta ya krokran   
no hai khai'meri kara   
  
Yool ta tiera hareiku hare   
Falan leiu hoo   
Yool migietta ya krokran no hai yama   
Tei khai'meri kara   
Dhai iirah jyou…”

Clara trailed off with the last of the words, the song emanating off into the blackness and eventually consumed. That ever-present knot of sorrow in her gut loosened ever so slightly, giving her a kind of relaxation that had been absent for… she didn't even know how long.

“...simple lyrics,” came the low mutter of Loki in a disdainful tone, who had taken up a meditative position with his back to Clara.

“And the silent brooder finally speaks!” she said brightly, a little relieved. “And I don't even know what language it's in, so I wouldn't know either way.” Clara shrugged. “I just think it sounds pretty.”

“Ah, simple lyrics for simple mortals,” he scoffed. “How very appropriate for you.”

She sent him a piercing glare that he subsequently ignored. “Then I guess that gods would prefer much more complex, deep meaning melodies?”

Loki gave her a smug grin. “Of course. The halls of Asgard only deserve the most beautiful of musics, provided the best talent from across the Nine Realms to compose and play such things.” He laid back, studying her face once more.

They again fell into the silence that permeated the void, and Loki got that inquisitive look on his face again. “Just ask your question already,” Clara finally said, sick of this walking on eggshells they were doing. “I can tell you're dying to know, so go ahead.”

“How do you know who I am, mortal?” That sharp curiosity of his glinted hungrily in his green eyes, a welcome change from the veritable breakdown of earlier.

“Um…” Clara gave a weary smile before freezing up. _How in the world do I explain this?!_ she internally screamed. _Should I even? You know what? Lie! Lying is always good in these situations!_

“Well, we have these things called myths, and I put two and two together?” She offered.

_ Yeah, like that's totally believable!  _ Her subconscious screeched. Outwardly, the human winced at the equally disbelieving stare she was receiving from Loki.

“I'm psychic?” She tried again, even more pathetically.

“I'm the Liesmith himself, Lady Clara,” he said drily. “And even if I were not, those are some of the worst I've heard in all my thousand years alive.”

“It was worth a shot,” she muttered sullenly, before sighing. “It's a long story, and a pretty unbelievable one at that. Think you can spare any of your precious time?”

“Believe me, I have nothing better to do than listen,” Loki smirked, dark eyebrows quirking in amusement. Like she was some cute little dog that yipped for attention.

A brief surge of anger burst in her chest. She wanted to punch his stupidly smug face in, although he'd probably be able to stab her in under a second flat if she tried.

She took a deep breath, loosened her shoulders up and began. “Well, it all started when this guy named Stan Lee and his buddies had a great idea for a comic…”

 

* * *

 

“...and that's about the basics, I think.” The mortal finally finished, appearing to try and wrack her brain for any more reality shattering insights.

His eyes stared unblinkingly out into the abyss around them, brain scrambling to piece together some kind of response. “Either you're insane, incredibly stupid, or actually, by some _miracle_ telling the truth,” Loki finally spat out, eye twitching involuntarily.

The girl didn't seem fazed by the venom behind those words, ony rubbing her throat after the nonstop talking she'd been doing. She narrowed her eyes. “Don't cop an attitude, buddy. You asked and I gave you what I know. I don't give a crap if you believe me! I don't care if you think I'm insane! That's all!”

Despite her brave words, Loki could see the hurt reflected deep in her brown irises. She gave a huff and turned away from him, pouting like a child.

A small pang of regret sounded deep in his chest, but was squashed by a metric ton of bitterness and anger that had been stewing. What did she know of being disbelieved, of being called Silvertongue, trickster, deceiver? Of being lied  _ to? _

He ignored the tiny voice screaming  _ Hypocrite! _ In his mind.  _ Hypocrite, failure, monster,  _ **_Jotun_ ** -

Loki tried shut out the incessant blabbering, choosing to think on the information his guest had presented instead. A whole other alternate universe wasn't what was so hard to believe, no. The multiverse was something that at particular times was studied, such as the Convergence with the thinning of the borders between realities, which enabled the few Asgardian scientists to peer through and observe, measure and catalog before that brief time span was over. It was taught to him in the days of his youth, along with all the other required subjects for a budding prince to know.

But the part that detailed the lives of mortals and gods alike-  _ his _ life- was beyond belief. As fiction,  _ entertainment _ for the mortals of her world? The very idea was completely and utterly violating, with Loki's struggles, his emotions, his very  _ soul _ laid bare for them to see, analyze, and despise. If it was true, then she knew his nature already, as a monster, a villain,  _ a disappointment- _

“Okay Mr. Broody, that's enough of that!” interrupted the voice of Clara, stern and compassionate, a sudden change from earlier.

She tugged at the tether between them, pulling Loki closer to her position. They collided with a slight  _ oof _ , and slender female arms embraced him for the second time.

For the second time, he was receiving a hug. Without thinking, he leaned into her touch, savoring those warm sensations, the promise of something better than the desolate, numbing feeling of the abyss they fell through.  _ How long, _ he thought,  _ has it been since anyone has given me such a thing? _

Loki's lifetime was ever distant in the subject of physical affections, with even Moth-  _ Frigga _ ceasing such things as cuddles and hugs when he had finally reached his adolescence. Such things were seen as signs of weakness and  _ ergi _ , as womanly and feminine. Like he didn't get enough scorn for using seidr, to be craving such attentions was simply begging to be branded as a complete outcast. Even so, he'd craved that gentle touch that had been so absent.

“That's enough self hating, Loki,” she said gently, patting his back once more. “I know enough about you to know what you must be agonizing over, and  _ no _ ,” Clara stated firmly, “you  _ aren't  _ a monster.”

The words pierced his very center, disbelief spilling from him and turning into white-hot rage.

Loki caught her hand and snarled. “ _ Don't _ presume to know me, mortal. I'm a Jotun, a frost giant that is the very definition of a monster! You know what I've done, what I tried t-to do,” his voice wavered slightly. “If what you claim to be true is any indication, then you already know this! I don't need your  _ pity _ .”

Clara simply stared him in the eye. “And you think because that you're a monster, some lost, unloved relic, that you should die?” she said softly.

A lump formed in his throat, the rage fading into the same dull ache of  _ losssadnesshatredfailure _ that the was his world now. “And why shouldn't I?” came the miserable question, lowering her captive hand.

_ Weak little Jotun scum. Abandoned by everyone,  _ his inner thoughts hissed, making his green orbs shutter in shame.

She closed her own eyes, pressing their foreheads together. “Because there are people who care about you, Loki, even if you don't believe that. And,” the human smiled wryly, a hollow, heartbroken thing, “I’d probably go insane in here if you did die. Humans aren't made for solitary, sensory deprived living after all.”

They sat there in a more comfortable silence, each digesting the words that had been shared. And if a few stray tears traversed the god's cheeks, he'd never admit it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So funny story, as I was editing this chapter today I found out that Kaine's Salvation isn't actually in any language. It's just nonsense words, so even if Loki wanted to he couldn't understand it, even with Allspeak.


	3. Games of the Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Games are played, someone else finally spills their feelings, and...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be more lighthearted. Why does everything I touch turn to sadness? (TT)
> 
> Also, hnefetafl is an old Scandinavian board game that Vikings used to play. Looks pretty fun.

“I win!” Clara cackled childishly, swiping the magical construct away.

“So you did, Lady Clara.” Loki cracked a faint smile. “For once.”

“Hey!” She yelped, then crossed her arms and pouted. “That was mean. I won at least three of those!”

“Out of three hundred, I might add.”

“Details!”

Once feelings had been shared, subsequently pushed to the side and forgotten, THE VOID (all caps intended, of course, for dramaticness- dun dun DUN!) had grown boring and stifling once more. Thus, the magical game constructs were born.

“You wanna play Jenga again? Or Battleship? C'mon, it's really good. You'd really like that one; it's got some strategy involved.”

“I might prefer to play something a little more... dignified,” Loki stated, lazily flicking a wrist.

In a rush of green magic ( _ seidr, _ Loki had corrected) that never ceased to amaze Clara, a transparent board flickered into existence, game pieces popping up all over the checkered landscape. Her fingers twitched in anticipation, umber eyes glowing with curiosity and wonder.

“I'm never going to get used to how cool your seidr-magic stuff is, Loki!” She squealed softly. “I still can't believe that magic is actually  _ real _ .”

Loki preened under her praise, verdant eyes glimmering in pleasure and amusement. “Yes, yes, I am amazing. Now, here we have hnefetafl,” he said, gesturing to the game board. “Similar to your game of chess, hnefetafl deals with two opposing forces on the board, but one focuses solely on offense and the other on defense.”

Clara bit her lip in thought, shifting her flailing hair out of her face for the umpteenth time. “So...it's sort of like a siege, right?” She guessed. “The attackers are the forces on the rim of the board, the dark pieces, and the ones in the center are defending a king in his fortress.”

A slight grin was sent her way. “It seems that the mortal has a keen mind as well! Certainly more perceptive than Thor at any rate, the oaf,” Loki grumbled under his breath, “but you're correct in your assessment of the situation. The main objective for the defending side is to get the middle piece, the king, to safety in one of these corner tiles. For the attackers, they plan to wear away at the defense and capture the king piece before it can escape.”

The game turned out to be quite challenging, with all the possible move combinations and strategies that could be put into play. Loki manipulated the board like a mastermind, regardless of which side he was on at the time. Clara found herself cornered sometimes within a few turns. Sometimes the trickster led her on for turns at a time, letting her believe that she almost won before suddenly blindsiding her with a move she never even saw coming.

After she'd lost for the dozenth time, the woman somehow pulled a winning move out of lucky happenstance, leaving Loki to have his jaw part in disbelief. Pride and happiness surged through her, shooting a smug look his way.

He utterly destroyed her in the next few matches of course, but Clara would take the little victories. The look on his face was totally worth it.

They moved onto several other games, and things blurred together until Loki finally relented on playing Battleship. Clara scoured her mind for every memory to give him a good description to work off of, when she remembered a time before…

_ …..A little girl in bright blue pajamas ran down the stairs in a hurry, smile wide and showing off toothy gaps. In her arms she lugged a Battleship box, worn and loved over the years. _

_ Clara hefted it over her head, grinning and yelling, “Daddy, Daddy! You gotta play Battleship with me before night-night! You promised!” _

_ A tall man shifted into the living room where she stood, a shock of dirty blonde hair on his scalp and wiry glasses about his kindly brown eyes. He let out a little laugh at the sight, kneeling down beside her and smooching her forehead. _

_ “One more to make the nightmares go away?” Clara asked shyly, gazing up with big round orbs that glinted innocently. _

_ “One more,” Dad relented, kissing his daughter right on the cheek this time. He smiled as she gave a whoop and a cheer, tiny whites shining in the dim light. _

_ “Now we gotta play!” The child ripped open the box and tore out the game, ready as ever to begin…. _

Clara blinked tears away at the sudden recollection, feeling a dull pang of loss in her chest and breath hitching slightly. Dad was always so please positive, so caring. And now he and everyone else was gone.

It was like a piece of her heart had been ripped out of her breast, the place where her family had occupied only a gaping, bleeding wound that would probably never heal.

“Let's play something else…” she muttered dully, averting her eyes so Loki couldn't see the red that tinged them.

The god seemed to sense the atmosphere, simply quirking his brows without comment. At least he had some sense of decency. It seemed appropriate to have a moment of silence for the life that was now forever out of reach.

 

* * *

 

The second born Prince of Asgard felt a strange sense of apprehension at the clearly upset Midgardian falling with him. It was a little irritating that she fell into this depression now, but Loki supposed it was only a matter of time. Clara seemed one of those people that was emotional and overthinking things at every turn, and coupled with an environment like the Void…

Even so, a small desire to comfort the human grew within him, the memory of his own breakdowns still humiliatingly raw and fresh. For the first time...someone had seemed to understand what Loki wanted. This Clara Wessling had accepted him, even through what she knew about his misdeeds and disgusting heritage.

It was the least he could do to offer the same favor that she had given Loki. He didn't want to owe a debt, after all.

“You know,” the prince said suddenly, startling the still weepy eyed Clara, “I realize that you know much about me, given your world's…information, but I am still in the dark about you, my Lady.”

He moved a knight forwards on the game of chess they were currently playing, taking care to note the changes in expression on the woman. Her mouth opened slightly as if confused, before understanding dawned and a thoughtful look crossed her face.

Excellent. She was interested.

“I...I guess so,” she stammered. “Well, what do you want to know? There isn't much interesting about me. I'm just a normal person.”

She pushed a pawn up. Loki countered with one of his own, making room for a rook in the next turn.

“I assure you that no one who ends up  _ here _ is any measure of normal, milady,” he said dryly, “Let's start with some basics then. How old are you in Midgardian terms?”

Clara knocked over one of his bishops, making way for her queen to take a knight. “I'm about 20, I think,” she murmured. “It's kinda hard to tell here. Just started making my way in the world, starting secondary schooling, all that stuff.”

“Just past your species majority, then. Any interests that you pursued?”

“I prefer the arts, was maybe going to get my degree in it.” A small smile made its way into her face. “Mom was always encouraging me to follow my dreams, ever since she found me fingerpainting the walls as a kid.” A trembling sigh came out. “She was so kind, so... amazing, I always wanted to be like her.”

Loki hummed in acknowledgment, decimating her queen with a well-placed rook. Clara didn't even notice, staring at her hands balled up in her lap instead. A teardrop beaded and trailed up her forehead, getting lost in the dark.

“My own mother, Frigga, did much the same for me,” he murmured reverently. “Teaching me how to form my seidr, giving me motivation to continue my studies even though the rest of Asgard scorned it. Loving me. Protecting me. Accepting me for who I was.”

Her unseeing umber eyes were distant, more tears gathering and dripping upwards in a strange display, almost like the impressive fountains of Vanaheim. “A-and Dad,” she choked back a sob, “he was always taking us around the country, trying the next big thing, th-the adrenaline junkie. So passionate a-and patient, like when h-he took care of my scrapes and bruises.”

“A-and my a-annoying little siblings t-too!” Clara began to bawl, streaming tears turning into waterfalls. “They- they w-weren't perfect but they were  _ mine!” _

An ache began deep within his chest, almost painfully. The prince dismissed the board and gathered the lithe figure of the human in his arms, shuddering and sobbing with raw emotion. This woman, so young and full of life and enthusiasm, was reduced to a crying wreck.

_ She didn't deserve to be turned to this, _ Loki thought fiercely, suddenly enraged. The Norns would have been kinder to leave him here alone, rather than drag Clara here to suffer with him from her own happy life.

“...L-loki?” Came the small voice of the Midgardian, full of vulnerable quietness.

“Yes, Lady Clara?”

“I-I mean,” she stuttered even more, cheeks reddening slightly, “a-are we...friends?”

It seemed an absurd question at this point, and despite the dreary atmosphere, Loki gave a small chuckle. “I believe so. We've certainly shown enough vulnerability at this point to be something beyond that...say, lovers?” He asked, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Her cheeks went beet red until she realized his true intentions. Clara narrowed her eyes and shoved him off of her, drifting back away. “Ha ha, very funny Lokes,” she huffed indignantly, then gained a playful look on her face.

She yanked on the tether again, sending them both tumbling. A gleeful laugh escaped her, tackling the god and attempting to tickle him. It was for naught, as the human soon found out, when Loki just lay there with a wide grin splitting his face, not even reacting. It paid to have magic to protect oneself from roughhousing.

And she was once more smiling.

 

* * *

 

“...and then my brother has to dress up in a bridal gown, pitches his voice so high and unconvincing that Thrym, an even more dumb brute, is having trouble believing that this strange, muscled woman is Freya!” A slightly insane sounding cackle came from the slowly spinning form of Loki.

In the middle of an experimental free fall flip, Clara burst into laughter, a delightful snorting sound reminiscent of honking geese. “Oh stars! Are you serious?”

“Quite!” The god chuckled, eyes shining. It felt good to see him in a better mood than he'd been in lately. 

The void hadn't been kind on either of their mental states, with both of them alternating with bouts of brief depression, anxiety and in Loki's case, episodes of suicidal ideation. His companion had been quick to snap him out of those with some of her favorite tactics: annoying him to death and giving the guy some positive reinforcement, because heaven knows the god hasn't had enough of that in his life.

Clara was extremely certain that she and Loki were at least slightly insane by this point but hey, who wouldn't be after plunging for eternity through a pit of literal nothingness?

_ And you get some void and you get some void and everybody gets some void of infinite despair!  _ she yelled internally, channeling her inner Oprah.

Oh wait, Loki was still rambling.  _ Quick, Clara look like you've been paying attention! _

“-and  _ then _ he wakes up to find Mjolnir's handle greased with animal fat, and the bumbling idiot tries at least a dozen times to pick the thing up-”

“And lemme guess, he tries and slips onto his arse every single time?”

“ _ Exactly!  _ And Odin just comes through to find out what all the din and ruckus is about, and just  _ stares _ like he can't believe his one good eye. It was one of the best moments of my life.”

The  _ days months years  _ passed by like that, with the both of them trying to hang on to any shred of normalcy that they could. They were the very vision of codependency, and probably a psychologist's wet dream. Too bad that shred of normalcy they had settled into was shorn away like a dream, the blackness of the void ripped away to reveal the very  _ real _ darkness of space and stars beyond.

The vacuum stole the breath from Clara's lungs in a great rush. Umber eyes shot open in horror as  _ she couldn't breathe _ and began to asphyxiate, choking silently on the freezing cold that invaded every nook and cranny of her being. Darkness crawled into the edges of her vision and her life flashed before her eyes- 

A wave of green caught her and Loki, oxygen filtering into the shimmering shield of magic he'd conjured. The human and prince gasped for air and life flooded back into them.

“...what? Where...are we?” she heaved, stomach churning from the sudden shift in gravity to weightlessness.

Loki himself didn't look much better, skin paling to a sickly shade and a bead of sweat running down his brow. “...don't know…” he grunted, “but we should make our way to that in the distance…”

Now that Clara took the time to look, still breathing heavily, there was an object, or a couple of them, really, that appeared to be something like asteroids. An asteroid field then? Something about this niggled in the back of her mind, but it was frustratingly out of reach, like a slippery fish. Probably not that important.

And then the giant ship popped out from behind one of them. It too looked too familiar, but she could care less at the moment. It was someplace they could land.

“Can you bounce us over to there?” The woman asked, gesturing towards the behemoth.

Loki shook with the effort of holding the shield, grimacing, but nodded. With a flick of his shivering wrist, they were shot forward like a cannonball, a streak of green left in their wake. But they were going too fast, she realized, heart settling in her stomach. Clara barely had time to brace herself before their ball breached the side of the ship in a fantastic explosion that threw her and Loki to the ground, jiggling them around inside.

She let out a pained scream as her ribs snapped and broke against the sides of the shield, fire blooming in her abdomen like fireworks. Everything burned and ripped and tore and then she was on the metallic plating of the floor, green dissipating until everything was only covered in red.

Clara's vision blurred, either from tears or something else she couldn't tell, head pounding. The light was agonizingly bright and highlighted her quivering forearms, streaked in what she thought must be he own blood, and reached out for the figure next to her. Loki, it must have been Loki, was knocked out cold, red gushing from a cut on his forehead and dying his clothes a deep crimson.

Scarlet infected her eyesight, intermixing with the deep black of unconsciousness. Just before she passed out, a flash of purple and a wide grin was the last thing she saw.


	4. Sanguine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tortured souls scrabble for any measure of comfort, and Clara gets some...interesting powers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for some torture, some violence and death. Why do I enjoy making my characters suffer?

_ Explosions. Fire raging, heart-wrenching screams. _

_ Fear. Deep, primal, animalistic fear rang everywhere, throwing everything into a frenzy, lights flashing and green magic fizzling. A sarcastic face mutilated and torn, lifeless green eyes staring into her startled umbers- _

_ Darkness everywhere suffocating pushing in consuming eating her alive cold and dark and cold and darkandcoldand darkandcold and  _ **_nothing_ ** _. Icy fingers ripping into her soul and freezing her heart everything nothing but cold and dark- _

A gasp. Air. There was air. She gulped it down greedily, chest heaving and-  _ bright pain _ lanced through her breastbone. It made her head swim, chest shuddering from the fire that came every time she tried to inhale.

Clara let out a small groan, lifting her heavy eyelids with a great effort. They slowly opened to a metallic ceiling, steel plating bolted to rafters in a rather haphazard way. A patch job? She stared at the rivets numbly, eyes tracing them practically without a thought. They appeared to be slightly rusted, with the oxidized layer only beginning to show up. It was nice, soothing, and all she wanted to do was fall back asleep and stop hurting. And it was cold.

Absently, Clara realized she was still dressed in her nightie, a little respite against the icy slab she laid on.

She very nearly drifted back asleep despite that, with the surroundings blurring and darkness encroaching before she realized with a jolt that something was hovering over her. A chill shot up her spine as she was brought back to full awareness. Her breath caught in her throat, paralyzed by the rush of fear that was triggered by the figure overhead.

A familiar purple face met her wide eyes, lips pinched into a slight smile. “Hello, child.”

Immediately she slammed her shields down, pulling up a facade she'd practiced so many times with Loki before.  _ “The trick,” he'd told her repeatedly, “is to project an air of steel over your fear. Never give in to your adversary, or you've already lost.” _

Narrow the eyes, defiance in the body language, don't look away. Clara forced herself to make eye contact with the Mad Titan, although her limbs still trembled against what she now realized were restraints. Thanos simply shook his head as though dealing with a particularly stupid child, an unapproving look crossing his face briefly.

“You've learned well from the trickster, it seems.” A sorrowful chuckle escaped him. “I've already been in audience with him, little one. What good does it do you to resist against us?”

The human snorted to cover up a shiver. What had they done to Loki while she was out? “It does me good to know that I didn't collapse at the first sign of fear, you wrinkled old prune.”

A wry smile crossed his face, and the Mad Titan pulled back and began pacing across the room, tiny as it was in comparison to his intimidating and bulky frame. “You remind me a lot of my own daughter, you know.”

The sudden change in subject threw her off, surprised. Her tense posture dropped slightly, umber eyes weary. What was this supposed to be about?

“Gamora was once a small thing, a tiny slip of a girl, but still just as feisty and quick-witted as she is now. I see now what I saw in her, all those years ago.”

“And what's that, purple man?” she spat.

“A lost, lonely child in need of guidance.” He paused in his pacing, staring Clara directly in the eyes. “Do you know the truth of this universe? Every civilization comes to the problem of not having enough resources. There is war, starvation, famine.”

Thanos straightened, an expression that could've been called melancholy etched on his face. “My planet fell to that, even when I had presented a solution. Simply wipe half the population. An indiscriminate purging of all classes, rich and poor. Then enough resources would be had for the rest of them, living in happiness and sleeping with full bellies.”

“Do you not wish for your own home world- Earth, Terra, Midgard- to receive these bountiful blessings?” He implored. “Won't you let me help them?”

Heavens, this was so absurd, so  _ surreal _ that Clara burst into a wheezing fit of laughter, wincing against her ravaged ribs. Her expression schooled into one of absolute defiance and fury that burned brightly behind her umber irises. “First off,  _ screw you _ . I don't want my planet razed and burned for no frickin’ reason. Nice sob story, but it doesn't change the fact that you're a complete psycho! I honestly feel sorry Gamora grew up with such a crappy space dad.”

She gave a sharp grin. “Second of all, you're going to  _ fail.  _ Oh, you wanna know why?” Clara tilted her head mockingly. “ _ I know the future _ , bozo. There are like fifty different people who are gonna kick your butt six ways to Sunday. And I wanna be on that list.”

Take that, you self righteous twat!

The Mad Titan didn't even seem fazed. Instead, interest flickered behind his eyes, widening slightly with realization. “You're a seer then, I see. Well, if you refuse to join me, then I'll just have to take that knowledge you boast about so proudly.”

Aaand there's the regret for opening her big fat mouth. She paled considerably as the Titan left the room, wondering how on Earth she was so stupid. Oh, just prop up your foreknowledge for everyone to see! That just won't end terribly at all! Sarcasm completely intended.

Also, Clara was still cold, tired, hurting, and now she was hungry. Oh and fearing for her life, couldn't forget about that!

 

* * *

 

_ “In the jungle, the mighty jungle, the lion sleeps toniiiiight~” _

_ “AWEeemoep, aweemoep~”  _ Clara sang obnoxiously, spite fueling her voice to be as high pitched and annoying as possible. It was only when another of her captors stepped through the heavily armored door that she shut her trap.

Ebony Maw strode up to her in all his Voldemort knockoff glory, eyes shining with malice. In his hands was clutched a very familiar looking scepter that Loki would use in the future, blue glow emanating from the captive Infinity Stone.

The Mind Stone. That could mind control you and very probably mindrape you. Great.

Her mouth went dry, very heavily regretting saying anything to Thanos at all. But then her traitorous lips parted, cracked from lack of water, and said, “Your mom was probably pretty ugly to make something like you.”

That hideous face twisted into a sneer, thrusting the scepter down to her temple.

Her world erupted into agony, nerves endings blazing and spasming. The blue glow intensified, and it felt like fingers were trying to dig into her skull and crack it open like an egg. The human let loose a pained scream, ribs feeling like they were splitting all over again.

It gradually levelled off, leaving her brain throbbing like a giant bruise and just at the edge of consciousness. She could barely make out Maw frowning, as if confused, before he seemed to-  _ PAIN _ .

A haze of red washed over everything, bathing the world in blood. Warm liquid dribbled from her orifices as she shrieked and fought against the cold cuffs binding her body.  _ Something _ wormed inside her mind, poking and prodding at her memories, only to have them slip away at the last second. The Infinity Stone was a sieve, but she was a liquid, always just out of reach, falling through the cracks before it could catch her. It dug even deeper, seeming like it was frustrated, if a semi-sentient hunk of rock  _ could  _ be frustrated.

Clara retreated from the surface, unconsciousness finally claiming her in its soft embrace.

 

* * *

 

Loki wasn't faring much better.

This Thanos, this Mad Titan, truly was delusional if he thought some pretty words and a little torture would compel the God of Mischief himself to obey. No matter how jaded or cynical he'd become, Loki  _ refused _ to bow to that self-righteous madman. Even he, the Prince of Lies, was no traitor. He had far more finesse than that.

A crack rang out through the dusty air of the ship, a dull pain once again lashing out across his back, tearing at the raw and only recently healed skin. Proxima Midnight brought down the whip yet again and again until everything was a fiery inferno. He bit down on his own tongue to keep from shouting, his pride the only thing left he had to cling to.

( _ But what of Lady Clara? Did you not cling to her in desperation through all that time in the Void, for sanity, for companionship, for...a friend?) _

Loki spat blood at Proxima as she retreated from his latest abuse, ignoring the traitorous feeling of niggling worry deep in his soul. A faint tremble formed, shaking the chains he was bound with, shaking with a certainty that there was yet more terrible things ahead.

 

* * *

 

When she next awoke, Clara could only figure that somehow, she was immune to the Mind Stone. Otherwise, she was sure she'd be dead now, or mindraped into a vegetable that did little else but drool. What other use could a weak little human possibly have to Thanos besides her future knowledge?

Apparently, the Black Order felt the same way, beginning with little tortures to try and pry the information loose. Depriving her of food and water, testing her very limits until she'd collapsed.

_ “Are you willing to tell us now?” _ They'd ask over and over, jeering at her, mocking her futile resistance.  _ “The pain will end if you simply give it to us.” _

And every time she refused. Too many lives were on the line for her to show any weakness. Loki was on the line

Currently, Clara shifted uncomfortably in her bonds, legs asleep from the prolonged kneeling they had forced her into. Cuffs bound her ankles to the floor in such a way that refused any other position, in addition to the chains attached to both her wrists and the walls. By far the most annoying, however, was the collar they'd fitted her with, yanking her neck towards the floor and making her back strain.

That thrill of fear that seemed ever-present these days returned with a vengeance as that heaven-forsaken door opened with a whooshing noise. The cruel smirk of Ebony Maw was back, and with him the whole host of memories and feelings that human had attempted to shut out.

She froze, remembering the  _ bloodterrormindinvasion _ that sent a shudder through her whole form, existential terror overwhelming Clara. She jerked and fought against the bonds, but they held fast, leaving her unable to run, unable to do much except scream.

Maw gestured and she was suspended in a telekinetic grasp, shackles unlocking and falling to the floor. Fear flowed through her veins as the alien carried her through the ship to a different room, but on the way, through a pane of thick glass, Clara caught a glimpse of her  _ friend _ bound in much the same way she had been, with the exception of hot coils glowing red on the walls.

It was even worse when she remembered he was naturally a Jotun, a Frost Giant. What better torture than their antithesis, heat?

Loki was slumped and sweating like a pig, vibrant green eyes dulled. She wanted to scream for him to see her, to let him know she was  _ still here _ , but her jaw was held fast. Her umber eyes shone and glistened in desperation until he was long gone.

Maw seemed to smirk at her, and Clara realized that he'd let her see that on purpose. But her resolve steeled even as her heart throbbed for the tortured god.

The microsurgery needles he prodded her with next were almost a relief compared to the agony of watching Loki.

 

* * *

 

They stared each other down, one bound and the other standing freely. The Terran was haggard and thin from lack of sustenance, but the woman still had that glint of defiance buried underneath a metric ton of weariness. She had to admire that steely determination in the face of all that had been inflicted on the human.

“...what'll it be today, Gamora?” The Terran croaked. “I think the whips must have snapped the last time they hit me. Can't be that. Maybe something more unique, like Chinese water torture?” A shaky grin was pulled up.

Gamora felt a pang of some sort in her gut at the sorry state of the sentient, but stayed silent. Show no sympathy to the prisoners, or they would never be ready for their purpose. She provided the Terran with enough food and water to survive in the meantime, with the bland nutrition bars crunching under desperate teeth.

“...you know he's just using you, right?” she asked wearily, jangling her chains. “Once Thanos is done with you, he'll just throw you away.”

Rage surged through her veins briefly, but Gamora kept quiet. What did this sentient know of her father?

“All just his playthings…” was the final muttering as the Zenwhoberi left, her gut twisting in an unfamiliar way.

Was this some sort of...regret?

 

* * *

 

They'd brought her to a brightly lit, white room in the recesses of the ship. Clara absently noted that she'd never been in this particular torture chamber before, and the uncertainty of what was happening next was agonizing.

Hah. Justified paranoia at its finest.

The minions overseeing it today had cuffed her down to a cold steel berth, and they rubbed painfully against her raw skin. Scabs from previous wounds were an angry red on top of pale pink scars.

Clara shivered, naked against the icy metal, clothes long ago shorn into rags and taken. She eyed the tray of tools next to her, full of scalpels, drills and  _ needles. _ A minion came close, snatching up a syringe full of a bright red liquid that bubbled menacingly inside the tube, thick and viscous like blood.

The minion chittered with the other briefly, and then the syringe was brought down on her upper arm. It prickled briefly as the thick liquid was injected down into the vein. The minion withdrew and stood with the other to watch the show.

She looked down at the entrance wound, her flash of tense fear giving way to confusion. Was something supposed to hap- wait, something didn't feel right. For a moment she thought it was simply nausea at the sight of the needles, but it transformed into something more with a sharp pain in her heart, eliciting a gasp. Then, the process began.

Searing fiery bursts pulsated around her veins with each beat of her heart, starting within the muscle itself. It felt inflamed and infected, and heat built behind her eyes as tears threatened to spill over. Clara grit her teeth and refused to make a noise until the magma exploded through her arteries like fireworks, blood crackling and popping beneath her flushed skin.

The woman let loose and inhuman shriek, the world bathed in flames and maroon as she struggled against the binds holding her down, her spine arched in sheer  _ agony- _

The fire whipped out of her body and sprayed everything with crimson scarlet, shining in the lighting of the torture chamber. It sliced and cut and sprayed yet more red until everything was coated with gore.

Clara panted and choked in relief that the pain was  _ finally _ gone, sagging against the berth. The red faded from her vision, showing her the scene of horrific death splattered on the white walls. She numbly looked at what had once been her tormentors, observing the slaughter that had occured.

A minion had their head chopped clean off their shoulders, face still twisted in the agony it had been inflicted with in death. Yet another was cut neatly down the middle, guts spilling onto the floor and intestines coiled beneath like a heap of Halloween spaghetti. And all that was ignoring all the smaller lacerations that had been sliced into the blood-coated skin. Her stomach gurgled, and the nausea was back, bile rising in her throat.

The human finally noticed that her chains had been hacked apart in the chaos, the steel shackles now in pieces beneath her scarred skin. She sat up in shock, hardly daring to believe it. God bless America. She was free?

“What just happened?” Clara whispered haggardly, inspecting her skin and trying not to think on the bodies. laying before her.

There had been the fire in her veins, and then...everything just kind of exploded into red. Like blood? An idea formed in her mind, and she erupted into insane giggles. This whole thing was insane, or maybe Clara just was, but…

She gave an experimental flex with her still raw mind, watching in fascinated horror as her own blood slowly crawled out of the pores of her skin and cuts in her wrists. She imagined it coalescing into a thin strand and it did so, dancing like a charmed snake. Entranced, she pumped more out until she began to feel slightly light-headed with wonder, giggling once more as an actual snake formed out of the crimson liquid.

“Imma call you Snakey,” Carla laughed softly, petting the blood construct. It crystallized upon contact with her hand, and then she got another idea.

She released the construct, instead letting the spare blood flow around her naked skin, forming a kind of glassy red armor on her body. It hugged close to the skin, feeling almost like a natural extension of herself. Although, of course it was, being her own blood. It was pretty warm.

“This feels so freaking anime,” she reminisced, looking over her new skin. It honestly reminded her of  _ Deadman Wonderland _ . Both of them trapped and tortured, and now able to manipulate blood for their own needs. “You twats weren't able to punch the otaku outta me!” Clara declared proudly, forming gauntlets and shadow-boxing the air briefly.

Then an alarm sounded, startling her out of her anime reverie. “Right,” Clara sulked, “Still gotta get Loki and get outta here.”

She took one step and nearly fell over if it wasn't for her armor anchoring her feet to the ground. Right. Briefly forgot about being starved and tortured to the brink of death for a minute. Her limbs felt heavy and weak as the reminder brought her back to reality, taking a shuddering breath to calm her racing heart.

“I have power now,” the woman whispered to herself. “I'm not helpless anymore.”

Now wasn't the time to stage a breakout, much as she would've liked to. It was time to find a place to hide and recuperate, away from the horrors of the Chitauri and  _ Thanos.  _ Clara breathed deeply in regret at the thought of the prince being subject to more of the harm they would undoubtedly dish out.

“I'm gonna come back for you, Lokes. I promise,” she murmured, before limping off.


	5. Can I Become Strong In My Weakness?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Escaping, escaping more, and a rousing discussion on torture. Oh and lots of angst. Can't forget about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh gosh, everything in this chapter somehow turned into angst. I am the Midas of angst or hurt/comfort fics!

_She was clad in irons again, limbs immobilized in both fear and restraint. No, no she couldn't be back here_ nononono-

 _She couldn't move. Then there was the blazing flames and the shocks and jolts of electricity coursing through her and the fiery pain of her roaring_ **_blood_ ** _with Maw and Corvus Glaive and all the other bloody abominations of Thanos all laughing at her pain._

 _She screamed for help, pleaded and_ **_begged_ ** _._

 

_But nobody came._

 

_That is, until a piercing green light entered, revealing the flawless features of one of the Princes of Asgard himself, Loki. Verdant robes billowed around his form and his horned helmet gleamed menacingly in the dim lighting._

_“Loki,” she choked on her blood, gurgling, “help me...please…”_

_His eyes stared coldly, and she realized with a start that they were no longer his normal leafy green. They were chips of glacial ice, an electric blue that sucked all the life from whatever they touched. Loki let out a mocking laugh, making her insides twist painfully._

_“Why should I, dearest Clara?” He asked gleefully, before his expression twisted into something darker. “You never came for me. I laid as you do now, bound and tethered and tortured but you never came when I needed you!”_

_Then with a sickening crack, the Jotun's neck was crushed by a large, violet hand. Blood trickled down his cheek, lifeless eyes staring, accusing. Thanos leaned forwards out of the shadows, a maniacal grin splitting his face._

_“There must be balance in all things dear Clara!” Then he loomed over her, Loki's corpse in hand and Infinity Gauntlet Snapping-_

 

Clara woke with a jerk and hugged herself tightly, warm tears slipping down her pale cheeks. She rubbed them away, a brief burst of anger shooting through her at the weakness she was displaying.

She couldn't afford to be weak. Not anymore.

Unsteadily, she rose to her feet, stretching out her stiff limbs. The metal floor was never a comfortable place to sleep.

The small space she was hidden in was one of the few that had no guards or surveillance, but also had access to the nearby cargo holds that contained fresh food and water. The woman had been slowly regaining her strength for the last month, exercising both her muscles and the new blood manipulation she displayed.

Some of the things she'd found were pretty useful, from the way she seemingly produced blood at an insane rate and could congeal it immediately over any injuries she sustained. That wasn't to say that she was invulnerable, since she didn't have regeneration beyond her blood supply. Clara found that out the hard way when she was almost caught on one supply run, leaving her with a brand new scar running down her arm.

She flexed her power, forming another series of razor sharp blood blades in her knuckles, then snorted. The claws reminded her of Wolverine.

The time for recovery was over, and now, Operation Space Jailbreak was a go.

 

* * *

 

The guards strolled along obliviously, stun rods and guns held in a casual way that betrayed their boredom. It seemed that no matter the species or universe, security was still considered a boring job.

Her blood threaded upwards along the wall, slithering lightly over the ceiling. They walked underneath and the crimson lashed out and around them immediately, crushing their bones and brains before any screams could escape. The bodies were quickly disposed of in a neighboring room before she moved on.

She dodged and killed patrols as needed, getting lost a few times until Clara finally reached that area that had housed Loki the last time she'd been here. The door was ripped down and shredded into metallic junk, only to reveal an empty room filled with naught but abandoned shackles and flecks of blood on the walls.

No. Her heart plunged into her stomach, making her feel sick. Clara couldn't be too late, she _couldn't!_

A horrible suspicion formed, and she assaulted another duo of guards, slaughtering one and leaving the other shivering beneath a razor sharp blood blade.

“Where is Loki!” The human screeched at it, and the remaining alien froze.

“He-he's being sent off to accomplish the glorious p-purpose as we speak!” It squealed fearfully, and the blade nicked its throat, making it shudder even harder. “On the bridge!”

White hot _rage_ spilled through her veins as the blue blood of the alien spattered the floor. Crimson heels hit the deck as she sprinted and towards the other end of the ship, destroying anything that was in her way.

She had to backtrack at least three times, anxiety building every time it was revealed she went the wrong way. Why, oh _why_ was it that she had such a bad sense of direction!

Finally, Clara ripped into the main room, dashing past the Black Order and Thanos and straight into the dimming Tesseract portal that had been left, disappearing in a burst of blue before any of them could comprehend what had happened.

 

* * *

 

Traveling via Tesseract was _weird_ . It reminded Clara way too much a dive into deep water, the space around her twisting and muddling sounds until they were unrecognizable. Her stomach churned and turned until she was finally _out,_ and then everything she'd eaten came up on a machine underneath her heaving form.

A hail of gunfire brought Clara back to reality, and things got surreal.

Loki was there, hefting the Chitauri spear and shooting bolts of blue light at SHIELD guards, sticking several with knives if they got too close. Clint Barton and Director Fury had dived to the floor to avoid the flurry of bullets and magic, the rounds just bouncing off Loki's worn chestpiece. Holy crap, she remembered watching this on screen. Just another thing that reminded her yet again that this wasn't her home universe.

Loki, however, looked terrible. His leather armor was still ripped in some places, he was sweating and panting. Even so, he approached Clint Barton with a regal stride to his step, treading through the blood and debris that was scattered about.

The archer's eyes flashed from what she could see, and Barton tried to stand defiantly. Loki's _blue eyes_ glimmered with amusement, and he raised the spear to the agent's chest before he could shoot the god.

“You have heart,” he murmured, and Barton's eyes changed to a disturbing black before settling into an obedient electric blue.

Clara kept her head and body low and out of view, watching wearily as the rest of the scene played out. She was frozen, suddenly, by the uncertainty of her next actions. She knew what would happen next, but what if she just made things worse by trying to keep something from occurring?

Loki could _die_. Or one of the future Avengers. And she didn't think she could take that.

And then she remembered that the whole place was going to blow just as the energy of the Tesseract began to build, the unstable artifact's residual cloud beginning to spark and expand dangerously. And despite everything, the woman really didn't want to die.

Her blood bubbled and reinforced her armor as the god and agents spoke, releasing a dozen bladed whips that writhed around her dangerously. Clara was ready to sprint from her hiding spot when Fury let out a scream as the _crack_ of a gunshot rang out through the facility.

 _Screw canon!_ She shrieked internally as Loki and his minions left the SHIELD director sprawled on the floor, a pool of scarlet gushing from the wound.

The woman let go of her whips and stripped off her helmet as she ran, sweat glistening in the energetic blue of the alien energy. Clara got to his side, but the black man flinched away in pain, expression twisted from what seemed to be anger and the tiniest bit of fear.

“Ma'am, you shouldn't be here!” He snarled, brows furrowing.

“Director, I can get that bullet out and us out of here before that blows! Please, let me!” Clara pleaded, gesturing to the roiling energy above.

Fury's face betrayed his distrust, but the urgency of the situation made him lower his hand from the still gushing wound. “Don't make me regret this, lady,” he hissed.

With that, Clara formed needles of blood that dove into the ragged flesh, delicately searching for the intruding object. They hit something hard, and roughly shaped like a bullet, so she concentrated, wrapping it in a layer and drawing it out slowly, ever aware of the gasping and cringing of the man in front of her. It popped out with a sickening _plop_ , and she flung it far away before congealing some blood in the wound.

“It's not pretty, but it'll hold for a while.”

The director immediately pulled out a walkie-talkie as they ran through the tunnels, holding his side. “Hill, do you copy?! Barton is compromised! I repeat, he is compromised!”

A rattle of gun fire pours out the speakers, sharp and staticky. “He’s got the Tesseract! Track it down!” Fury yelled into it.

The ground rumbled and quaked dangerously, and pipes began to fall and be dislodged from the ceiling. Clara severed the ones that came too close as they kept sprinting as fast as they could go, and finally emerged into the blistering sunlight. A helicopter rested on the takeoff pad, and Fury wrenched open the doors and dove into the pilot seat, followed closely behind by the blood coated woman.

The director gritted his teeth, pushing it into gear just as the helipad began to crumble. The rotors whirred into motion, and the helicopter finally lifted off into the air.

Oh _stars._ Clara collapsed numbly into the comfy seat, ignoring the chattering of agents over the walkie talkie, focusing instead on the expansion of tesseract energy below. It seemed to condense and focus before imploding into a terrifying black hole, swallowing up the entire facility and small parts of the desert below.

And then there was the small truck beneath them, and Fury threw open the door and unholstered his gun and shot at the small vehicle. She saw Loki's face twist, and another pulse of blue flew at their position.

Clara reacted, shoving both of them out the door of the chopper before the whole thing lit up into a brilliant ball of flames. She curled a layer of red between them and the ground, cushioning the fall and protecting them from the explosion that occurred not long after, the helicopter undoubtedly done for.  

She panted and let down the shield, collapsing to the desert sand. Fury simply shook himself and stood, firing off several more rounds at the retreating truck. Her eyes shut against the blinding rays of the sun, exhaustion creeping into her bones. She'd trained strength, not endurance.

“-irector? Direct- Fury, do you copy?” came a shorting out voice through his walkie talkie.

“The Tesseract is with the hostile force,” came his grunting reply. “I have men down. Hill?”  
  
“A lot of men still under, don't know how many survivors.”

And there was the guilt. Could she have prevented this, somehow, if she hadn’t been so darn wrapped up in her own insecurities?

Still weak.  


“Sound the general call!” Fury barked. “I want every  
living soul not working rescue looking for that brief case!”   


“Roger that, sir!” And with a click, Maria Hill was gone.

  
“Coulson, get back to base,” he said to the agent. “This is a  level seven. As of right now, we are at war.” 

There was a brief silence, and Clara began slipping away, too tired to move.  
          
“What do we do?” asked the voice of Coulson.

“Call the Ghostbusters?” she murmured, before finally blacking out.

 

* * *

 

_Beep._

 

_Beep. Beep beep beep beeeeeeep._

 

**_Beep._ **

 

Her face scrunched up, brows furrowing. Was that her alarm going off?

**_Beep._ **

That noise was getting _really_ annoying.

She felt around a bit for the snooze button, but was stopped as an object jerked her hand back. _Panic_ shot through her, _she was back on the Chitauri ship and bound, Ebony Maw stabbing his needles into her flesh-_

Clara let loose a terrified scream, her blood launching out of her pores in blades that shredded everything around her. Electricity exploded and liquids flew through the air, and a louder series of whining noises started up.

_-puncturing and piercing into her veins over and over and over, pain exploding across her skin-_

She drew shuddering breaths, short and quickening with every minute that alarm kept playing. She couldn't be back there. She couldn't couldn't couldn't-!

Sprinklers flicked on, and Clara was startled by the sudden rain that came down, wetting her brunette locks.

Wait. Sanctuary never had any sprinklers. A-and Maw wasn't here at all, only the decimated remains of a hospital room, smoking and sparking from the way she'd lashed out.

“D-did I just have...a panic attack?” She fingered her wrist, where the remains of a pair of handcuffs dangled.

“That's right, girl,” said a voice behind Clara, and she whipped her head around to look at the speaker. Her heart thundered in her chest at the sight of Agent Phil Coulson himself. “I could probably tell you why, but you're not looking so hot right now.”

She stared at him in a deadpan. “I can guess. PTSD, shell shocked enhanced girl, oh noes! She's gonna kill us in a tantrum!” She mockingly snarked to cover her shock, a pair of blades extruding from her knuckles menacingly. They shook still from the flashback.

To his credit, Coulson didn't even flinch at the thinly veiled threat. “We'd like to think that you would have better control than that, with what you did for Fury.”

Clara's expression softened somewhat, settling on the ruined bed again. “How's the guy doing? Not lost his other eye to a rabid squirrel, I hope?” she joked.

“He's making a full recovery, other than a scar for the future.” Coulson smiled wryly. “He says thanks.”

“And other than that _enlightening_ news, what's the real reason you're here, Mister? It can't be to watch me wreck the place, since you've already got that checked off the list.”

The agent sighed, pulling out a chair that, miraculously, hadn't been chopped to bits. “Miss, the name's Agent Coulson, part of SHIELD. We'd like to know how and why you got into a dangerous and restricted area, if you wouldn't mind.”

The woman slumped forwards, taking a deep breath, before looking him in the eye. “Clara Wessling. And are you sure you want to know?” she asked, eyes haunted. “It has to do with the little episode I had earlier.”

A look of resigned curiosity appeared. “Please. We need to know, but I apologize if it brings up bad memories.”

“Then can we at least hit up a lounge?”

 

 

* * *

 

Five minutes and a ton of snarking later, the duo were seated on a pair of comfy, yet fancy chairs within the equally decorated lounge. Clara reclined back, armor shifted into a more casual piece that accentuated her curves and smaller bust, and sipped a can of diet soda.

She groaned in pleasure at the sweet taste that met her tongue. “Heavens, it's been so _long_ since I've had stuff like this.”

Coulson wrinkled his eyes in amusement, but still straightened up, carrying a clipboard to jot notes on. “May we start?” He asked politely.

Great. Clara took in a deep breath, steadying her nerves and putting up her confident facade again. Stars, just thinking about it made her nervous, a pit in her stomach that wanted to swallow her whole.

The woman paused to think. “So, it all started one minute after I went to sleep. I'd just gotten a stupid midterm paper done, all that jazz, went to bed at like three in the morning. And then _boom,_ I'm falling through a seriously freaky void dimension that didn't let me sleep, get tired, or anything.”

His brows raised slightly, but just gestured for her to continue.

“Then I found Loki falling through the void with me, and I can't tell you how _relieved_ I was to find someone else there. Cause isolation makes a person go bonkers, y'know?”

 _Falling and dark and nothing._ But nothing, _nothing_ compared to the uncertainty and horror of Sanctuary, needles and screams and terror. That hot fury raged beneath the surface, blood bubbling and sparking in defiance- _or was it masked terror?_

Coulson said something, snapping her out of her reverie. “Huh?” she mumbled, slightly nervous he'd caught her zoning out.

“Loki was there too? You know him?” the agent repeated.

Clara rolled her eyes, sipping her pop again. Darn this was good. “Right, right, sorry. I'll get more into detail later. Suffice to say that both of us were happy to find someone else there, and we talked and hung out in that weird place for who knows how long. Then,” she shuddered, “something spat us out and into space. Loki only just managed to save us both from asphyxiating out there. And-and then,” she gulped, “ _he_ found us after we crashed aboard his ship.”

“...who?” The agent asked hesitantly, pausing in his notes.

“ _Thanos,”_ the woman hissed like a snake, bloody threads waving wildly around her. She chugged the rest of her drink down and slammed it on a nearby table, crumpling the aluminum into scrap. “He's a genocidal monster who thinks he's doing everyone a favor by wiping out half a planet's population, for balance or some crap like that. He took one look at the two of us, Loki and I, and thought, why not _torture_ the crap out of these people and make them my loyal _slaves?! I'm sure that can't possibly be a bad idea!”_

That _monster_ didn't deserve to live, and the next time she saw him she'd eviscerate his organs and _make_ **_him_ ** _feel like a helpless victim-_

Clara yanked another can from the six pack and guzzled it angrily, oblivious to the startled expression on Coulson's face. “That's how _this_ happened,” she muttered, gesturing to the strands that finally sunk back under her skin. “Some guy got a little too cocky, wondered what would happen if they, say, injected some random thing into me and saw what happened. Afterwards, I killed them and escaped to a secluded place to get better.”

She ignored the look of dawning horror that overtook the agent, who seemed to be realizing what was really happening. “So he tortured you and Loki into compliance, but you got away…” he trailed off.

“And Loki didn't. He was stuck in that hellish nightmare for at least another month, but I can't tell you what might've happened then. I was too busy trying to get stronger in order to bust us out and then…” her eyes burned. “He was gone, and I was too late except to follow him.”

Clara buried her face in her hands, angry tears flooding down her cheeks. Too late. Not powerful enough to save the only friend she had in this dumpster fire of a dimension.

Coulson stopped, confused. “Something's not adding up. You say that Loki was coerced into coming here, but from what I've heard from our agents, the guy's been nothing but a murdering lunatic. It just doesn't scream 'help me, I've been tortured’ from those evil blue eyes.”

She looked back up with despair in her eyes, a choked laugh bubbling out. “Of course you wouldn't know. Loki's eyes aren't blue. They're naturally a bright green. And the thing is, one of the things they used to hurt us was that staff he's been lugging everywhere.”

“And that means-?”

“That they tortured him, broke down his mental shields, and used a thing on Loki that can control people, or at least corrupt them in such a way that brings the same result.” The woman sat back. “Do the math.”

The agent digested that, face returning to a calm blank, but Clara saw the truth as doubt warred behind his eyes. “You know we just can't take your words at face-value. You don't exactly have any proof of your claims.”

“Then look into it!” she finally snapped, crushing the can in her suddenly gauntleted grasp, spraying sugary droplets everywhere. “Get _someone_ on this so I can prove that I'm not lying!”

Stars, is this what _Loki_ felt like all the time? No wonder he was so reluctant to tell her anything at first, thinking that no one would believe him.

A wave of tired anxiety washed over her, form slumping.

Coulson got to his feet, flashing her a smile. “Don't worry, Ms. Wessling. What you've given us is valuable information, even if it will have to be corroborated first.” He pulled out a packet from his suit, tossing it to Clara. “Here, a little something SHIELD has been cooking up in the meantime.”

She eyed it warily, worries forgotten for the moment, then delicately parsed through some pages. Her eyebrows rose. “Me? For this Avengers Initiative?”

“We need all the people we can get with this recent problem,” he explained, turning towards the door. “Bringing together a team of remarkable people to try and defend the world.” 

Clara bit her lip in thought. She didn't know how things might play out with her included, but there was a chance that she could help prevent a lot of bad things from happening. Including _Thanos._ And preventing the trillions of lives from being extinguished for his insane plan of salvation. And Loki-

_-His neck crushed by a large, gauntleted hand-_

“I'll think about it,” she sighed. Agent Coulson gave her a knowing smile, then exited the lounge.


	6. Liar Liar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clara utterly fails at thinking ahead, Loki angsts inside his head, and someone snaps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst ahead, and mentions of torture. Also mental breakdowns.

The warm water slipped down her back, taking with it months worth of grime and sweat in a tumble to the drain below. Her brown locks were scrubbed and bubbled ferociously in an attempt to finally untangle the rat’s nest it'd become.

Once she'd finished rinsing, she just let the calming rivers drip down her body, soothing and relaxing the wiry muscles and faded scars she bore. Clara sat against the shower wall, closing her eyes and taking in the soft pitter patter of the 'rain’ on her skin.

How long had it been since she'd had the opportunity to relax? Always running, surviving, trying to stay alive, or worrying herself into a tizzy over the next imaginative torture. Never given a moment's rest, always terrified she'd finally slip and doom the whole universe.

But as much as she'd like to just wile away underneath the calming spray, there were other things that needed her attention. Like the timeline.

She furrowed her brow, trying to remember.

Okay, so first of all was the upcoming fight against Loki in...Stuttgart? She really wasn't looking forwards to that. And then there was the whole mess with the Chitauri swarming through via the Tesseract.

And then there was even further beyond, Iron Man 3, freaking  _ Hydra _ nazi scum, the Aether and dark elves...all the way up to the big bad grape lord himself. Even thinking about him sent a shiver through her body.

Maybe she should tell someone about this? Clara paused at the thought.

If she did, that was a lot of weight off of her shoulders, to finally be able to tell the  _ whole _ truth to someone besides Loki...and even  _ he _ didn't know any details, refusing out of sheer principle to enquire about his possible future. Something about his destiny only being in his own hands or something like that.

At any rate, someone  _ had _ to be told something at some point. But Clara had to win their trust somehow. If she came out in the open now, it would just be a repeat of the time she’d basically barfed out her secrets to Loki. Called a liar at best and utterly insane at worst.

It probably didn't help that she just showed up out of the blue and apparently knew the freaking god that, to SHIELD, was basically an insane megalomaniac bent on world domination. Really, great going Clara! You have absolutely no idea what you're doing.

And thus, she was back to square one, without a feasible plan, and still had the weight of the world heaped on her shoulders. Un-fricken-believable.

So she let the matter go, finally, basking in the warm streams again and trying to bring back her good mood that had been dashed to pieces against the ever-growing rocks of her anxiety.

_ I never want to be that dirty ever again _ ! Clara thought fiercely as she finally shut off the steaming shower head, grabbing a nice fluffy towel and wrapping herself in its soft embrace.

She paused in front of the slightly fogged mirror. Tired umber eyes gleamed back, flicking around as she observed the changes to her body. Where before this whole mess she'd had a slight pudge to her stomach, it was lightly toned everywhere now. Pink lash wounds crossed her back in diagonal lines, and as she touched them, still tender. Smaller scars dotted the rest of her body, some more faded than others.

Shame burned through her veins, blood bubbling, and angry tears blurred her vision. Clara should have known it was going to happen, should have remembered more. She should have fought harder against  _ them _ , should have made it so they landed someplace else than that stupid ship.

But she straightened, then glared herself in the eyes, the reflection narrowing its own. “I'm gonna make everything right,” Clara muttered, blinking tears away. A sharp grin crossed her face. “Not a weak little girl anymore, huh, Thanos?”

She let the towel fall to the floor, and slipped on some underthings and casual clothes. The yoga leggings and shirt were a good fit, and the woman had a sneaking suspicion that  _ someone _ did some measurements while she was unconscious. A layer of blood armor went over everything, the end result being like something out of an anime.

It was a tight fitting thing, reminiscent of an  _ Evangelion _ plugsuit in its red hue and basic construction. More layering formed a lattice of red hexagons over the top, adding thin pauldrons and pads to the knees and elbow areas, as well as cushioning the most vital places by the chest and abdomen. A jaw guard protected her face.

Clara bit her lip as she came to the feet, then after a moment's hesitation took away the heels. Instead, she made a thickened sole that conformed to the foot, and tested it by jumping lightly. All that was left was her gauntlets of crystallized blood, flexing the trio of claws out the front.

She looked menacing,  _ powerful _ in the mirror. An imposing figure of crimson and scarlet that stood against the evils of the universe, who could protect those who couldn't protect themselves. Who could protect-

“Clara Wessling, please report to the bridge immediately! Clara Wessling, please report to the bridge immediately!”

It blared over an intercom loudly, startling the woman out of her posturing. She blushed deeply, thankful nobody else was in the room. It was bad enough when her mom walked in on her, but it would be even worse if a stranger did it.

And bridge? Where was she that there was a….bridge. Oh duh. She facepalmed. Helicarrier was a thing.

She followed the flow of agents to the main control room, uneasily shifting with the telltale rumbling of the rising ship. As they emerged, Clara found her breath caught in her throat in awe at the sight of the huge windshield and the spectacular visage of the sky beyond. A thrill of childlike excitement shot through her, despite the situation.

The telltale “Reflection panels engaged” sounded, and she spotted Bruce Banner and Steve Rogers by a meeting table, and she quickly made her way over. Both men turned, Banner's eyes widening slightly and Rogers giving a surprised smile. Clara gave a big grin, enthusiasm making her eyes sparkle.

“Hey guys!” She said cheerfully, clapping the two on their shoulders. “Nice to meetcha. Clara Wessling at your service. And you're Captain America, right? Huge fan!”

His cheeks tinged a pale pink. “Thank you, Ma'am. Just doing my duty.”

Banner looked far more interested in her armor, bending down to examine it. “Doctor Bruce Banner,” he muttered absently, poking a ridge. “Is this made of crystallized erythrocytes? How?”

She looked at him dumbly for a minute before she realized what he meant. “Right. That's the technical term for blood. Duh. Also, I can control my own blood.” Her face darkened. “It's a long story, and I don't wanna talk about it.”

“Oh! Uh, s-sorry about that,” Banner apologized, awkwardly backing up, only to bump up against an approaching Nick Fury.

The black man appeared to be in better health than the last time she'd seen him. Well, that was to be expected, what with Fury bleeding out and all.

“Gentlemen. And ladies,” the director added, once he caught sight of Clara and Romanov, the redhead hovering above a desk and looking over a clipboard.

Fury turned to the boys and began to speak, and Clara tuned them out, squealing internally like a fangirl. She'd actually talked to Captain America! Maybe if he was willing, she could get a selfie with him...

Wait. Dawning horror crossed her face as she realized for the first time in months that she didn't have her phone. She couldn't take selfies. Her social media accounts didn't exist. Marvel as a company didn't exist, and she was actually seven years in the past.

Smartphones hadn't gotten good yet! She despaired, a brief gloom settling over her.

But she wouldn't have to pay off her student loans, and she'd have that random creepo who'd been stalking her forever off her back. Eurgh, that guy never learned, even after quite a few nutshots.

Eh. Pros and cons.

Clara looked up and deflated slightly. From what she remembered, Loki wasn't going to be in Germany until tonight. That left a good few hours before nightfall, and she was hankering for something to eat. When was the last time she'd even eaten a good, cooked meal?

Her stomach grumbled, and she made up her mind, walking up to Coulson and Steve, who were discussing things like era differences. They paused in their talking as the woman approached sheepishly.

“You guys got any shawarma up here?”

 

* * *

 

The last bite was partway to her mouth, Steve and Coulson chattering about vintage cards in the background, when a loud  _ ding _ rang through the bridge. Agents began hurrying around at a breakneck pace, and one approached Coulson.

“We got a hit. Sixty-seven percent match. Weight, cross match, seventy-nine percent.”

Coulson frowned. “Location?”

“Stuttgart, Germany. 28, Konigstrasse. He's not exactly hiding, sir.”   
  
Fury nodded towards the Captain and Clara. “You two are on. And don't make me regret this, Wessling,” he shot after the armored woman, who just gave him a grin.

 

* * *

 

The hooks in his mind tugged taut and inflamed his already imbalanced emotions, a flare of hatred leaking out for these Midgardians, these ants-  _ no not ants what am I doing - _ as he fought in both the physical and mental planes. He fought against the wires that trapped that rebellious piece of him deep inside, the Mind Stone's power flaring yet again to quell any resistance he may have been brewing.

In between those times of agonizing pain with flashes of lucidity, Loki was aware that his actions were not completely his own anymore. His own hands stabbing, seidr tugging painfully at his still healing channels as it was wrenched from within and forced into shape. Midgardians either fled or were part of the controlled company he had recruited.

And then the empowered individuals showed, and Loki fought them in a haze, only somewhat aware of what was going on, that is, until he saw  _ her,  _ and everything was shockingly clear for one brief moment. What he saw terrified him more than the prospect of returning to the Mad Titan ever could have, ice freezing his heart in place.

Lady Clara-  _ dear sweet sassy Midgardian _ \- fought against him now, a strange new ability at her side to manipulate her own blood at her beck and call. Her desperation was clear in her umber eyes that she didn't wish to hurt him, but a fierce protectiveness burned that revealed that she would do it if her hand was forced.

“Loki!” She screamed desperately as she and the other Midgardians fought, and his heart hammered neath his ribs painfully.

And then there was a man made of iron, a burst of light pulsing and hitting Loki as he touched down. Weapons popped out of every nook and cranny of the metal.

“Make your move, Reindeer Games,” came the cocky voice of a man.

Involuntarily, Loki's arms rose, and another yank of those hooks sent him under once more, praying that he wouldn't harm his only friend in this universe.

 

* * *

 

“Okay!” Clara said cheerfully, dusting off her hands as the blue eyed Loki was strapped and cuffed into the quinjet. “Now all we need to do is get rid of that stupid mind control on you, and things will be slightly better.”

Steve gave her a strange look and Tony- holy crap she was in the same place as  _ Iron Man _ \- just held his hands up in a 'stop right there’ motion.

“Wait a sec, Bloody Mary,” he protested, “what do you mean mind control? I'm pretty sure Blitzen over there is just a bit loco, unless you'd like to enlighten us?”

She lidded her eyes and let out a frustrated sigh, then said in a deadpan tone, “It's Clara. And I actually know Loki here from a bunch of crazy stuff that happened and we both got  _ tortured _ and he got his mind controlled by a frickin’ prune man. Bright blue eyes equals mind control, and his eyes are normally green. End of story.” Blood writhed in tendrils on her back, making it clear she didn't want to talk about it any more.

“Right, Loki?” the homokinetic murmured lowly, looking right into his changed eyes.

The god only smirked, but it was strained at the corners, simply looking like one of his many masks. Now that Clara could get a better look at Loki, he looked more gaunt and pale than he ever had been. Flickers of desperation in flecks of green warred with that incredibly dark hatred of blue that didn't seem completely his own.

Both Avengers at her back looked skeptical, Tony finally voicing his doubts. “Are you sure, Red? I mean, how can we know for sure that 'mind control' is what's really happening-”

A loud crack of thunder interrupted the inventor, and Loki turned white as a sheet, a faint shudder traveling up his lean form.

“What's wrong?” Steve finally spoke, and Clara shot him a grateful look for the interruption. “Scared of a little lightning?”

“I'm…not overly fond of what follows,” the God of Mischief swallowed.

And right on schedule, there was a telltale  _ thunk _ at the arrival of the God of Thunder above them. “...aaand  _ there _ he is,” Clara muttered as the quinjet rocked from his landing. “Thor took long enough.”

The inventor put his helmet back on, the inner mechanisms whirring as it clamped back into place. “You know this guy?”

“Second hand stories from Loki,” she admitted as Tony opened up the back, repulsors humming.

She put an arm in front of him as Thor came in. “Don't, you idiot,” she hissed dangerously. “Let me handle this.”

Thankfully, for once Stark decided to listen and backed off, but his weapons were still active just in case.

Lightning crackled dangerously around the god as he approached, and she called out to him. “Thor!” Clara yelled above the noise of the rushing air. “We have Loki, but he doesn't have the Tesseract at the moment. Would you be willing to have an alliance?”

He was even more gorgeous in person, with his blond locks and rippling muscles, flexing with the weight of Mjolnir. Those pale blue eyes narrowed in thought before nodding briefly, lowering the hammer. “I am willing.”

Loki snorted from his bonds. “A god willing to lower himself to the position of an ant. Bargaining with insects. Pathetic.”

A blood whip flicked his ear lightly in warning, and an electric blue glare was sent her way. Ah, almost like old times.

“I guess we're headed back to the helicarrier then,” Natasha declared. “Strap in boys, we've got a flight.”

Thor's attention turned to the bound god, and his jaw set. “Brother…” he murmured softly, sitting next to Loki. “We thought you dead, we  _ mourned.  _ We thought no one could survive a fall from the Bifrost.”

He attempted to put his hand on Loki's, but the trickster twisted them away as much as he was able, a sneer forming in his face.

“You mourned?” He spat dangerously. “I think the greater part of the people  _ rejoiced _ to see their troublesome prince thrown into the abyss. That they no longer had to deal with the argr prince that preferred seidr to swords or books to muscle!”

Thor's eyes widened at the sheer venom behind those words. “Brother-”

“I'm  _ not _ your brother,” Loki hissed, blue eyes flashing dangerously. “Don't you know my true heritage? Did  _ your  _ father not tell you?”

Okay, watching this play out was both heartbreaking and head aching. Clara pushed between them gently, umber eyes glaring at a surprised Thor. She took the god to the opposite side of the quinjet, sitting them both down. A seething Loki sent metaphorical daggers at them the whole way.

“You two have seriously got issues,” the hemokinetic mumbled under her breath.

She let out an exhausted sigh, wondering how many times she would have to explain this. “Look, Thor? What do you know of what happened after your brother's fall off of Asgard?”

He fingered Mjolnir wearily. “Some, yet not enough, I fear.”

“So. I was actually there for a good chunk of that.” Raised eyebrows. To be expected, yet better than being outright called a liar. “He fell into this in-between place called the Void. I was somehow there too, and when we found each other, he was a nervous wreck. We helped each other stay sane.” 

Clara leaned back into the cushioned seat, closing her eyes, continuing in a detached tone, trying very hard not to think of any specific memories. “Then we ended up spat out in a place called Sanctuary, but believe me, it was anything but. Several assorted tortures, powers and your brother getting mind-controlled later, here we are.”

If someone made her remember this  _ ever  _ again after today, she was going to murder something. But she bottled the rage down, awaiting the day it would finally be unleashed on a particular prune.

“How can I know that you tell the truth, Midgardian?” he asked weakly.

Something within Clara snapped. That metaphorical bottle exploded prematurely, and everything was covered in a haze of red. Her blood boiled and writhed, begging to be let free.

She rose from her seat almost regally before her blood whips began quivering dangerously, although well away from harming any person onboard. Her face twisted in a despaired rage, looking at all the occupants of the quinjet and them staring right back in either tense confusion or weariness. Another wave of berserker-like fury passed through her veins.

“You want  _ proof, Thor?!” _ She shrieked, angry tears beginning to fall down her cheeks. “Proof that we went through such terrible things at the hands of that  _ heaven-forsaken Thanos?!”  _ Clara let out a choked, mocking laugh that revealed the undertone of broken despair. “All of you want that, and this is all I have to show you!”

Her blood armor hardened and flaked away in a series of places until all that was left was an armored bra and panties, clothes long since destroyed. She stared defiantly at the God of Thunder, whose face had clearly begun paling at the sight of the wounds lashed across her body, remains of burns and electrical torture scarring places on her chest and limbs. The other Avengers had similar reactions, Tony gaining a haunted look in his eyes, the Black Widow turning away, and Steve becoming greener with each passing second. Loki stared passively, although his eyebrows twitched in what she thought might be discomfort.

“Look at me, all of you!” she snarled, eyes glowing red. “These are the scars of  _ torture, _ the proof of my weakness that I couldn't stop this from happening. The proof that I couldn't prevent Loki from being hurt even  _ more _ , as his own scars can show.”

_ Too weak to protect him. Too weak to prevent any of this from happening. _

The homokinetic huffed for breath, tears still falling. Her armor rebuilt itself, and everyone let out a small sigh of relief.

“And as for proving that Loki is innocent in everything?” Clara pointed to the Scepter, now strapped into a suitcase. “That thing contains an artifact called the Mind Stone, and it's the thing that controlled Agent Barton, whose eyes turned  _ blue _ when under its influence. Other agents can corroborate this.”

She then pointed to Thor. “Loki's eyes are normally green, right?”

He startled at being singled out, but quickly regained his composure. “Indeed, it's as you say. His eyes have always been a bright emerald green.” Thor frowned in thought. “How did I not notice before?”

“So, his eyes have changed color. Another thing is that Loki previously told me that he never wanted the throne of Asgard, which doesn't add up with the way he's been grandstanding and saying things like 'I am your new ruler!’. It just doesn't work unless something from the outside has influence on him.” Clara finally paused, before adding, “And that's all in addition to the physical evidence I showed you. Are you finally freaking convinced?”

All the Avengers looked at each other, the statue-like Loki, and the scary blood manipulator in the middle of everything.

Tony was suddenly standing up, clapping his suit's gauntlets together. “Right, okay. Let's say we are, Medusa. One little problem left.” He paused for effect, pointer finger lifted. “How do we get rid of it?”

Clara raised her own pointer finger, mouth opening, but froze. “Uhm. I didn't think that far ahead?”

She scrambled to remember how they'd solved this is the movie with Clint and Selvig, but it was all kind of fuzzy. She only remembered the broad strokes of what happened in the movies, to her frustration. What she really needed to do was make a list.

“How does one break the control of an Infinity Stone…?” muttered Thor. “We of Asgard supposed them nothing more than a legend.”

Natasha snapped her fingers to get everyone's attention, pointing out the front window. The helicarrier was finally in view. 


	7. Late Nights and Mind Stones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clara has some doubts, makes a plan, but doesn't foresee the consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. My update schedule from now on will be about a chapter every two weeks. Just so people don't freak out and think I'm dead or something.
> 
> Also, thanks everybody who has read, reviewed and subscribed to this fic! I couldn't do this without any of you.

“Yes. Fury, I do know what in the blazes I'm doing! Do I need to strip to show you my proof, huh?!”

She stormed through the doors of his office, them sliding shut behind her none too gently. Her face twisted in rage, muttering, “Save his life and that's the thanks I get? A-hole.”

_ And I actually have no idea what I'm doing. _

Frustration was curled inside her belly like a snake, writhing and squirming until Clara wanted to scream. She'd never handled stress well in the past, and now, with everything happening and depending on  _ her _ to change things…

It was like college finals all over again, except the consequences of failure were too great to fathom. Oh, you got an F? Too bad! That's over a trillion lives down the toilet, just because you couldn't do anything right. She froze up, fingers quivering.

She couldn't fail. But she didn't know how to do that. Her mind was a muddled mess of knowledge and terrified feelings of the  _ what ifs _ and  _ buts _ , all scrambling for Clara's attention. She took a deep, shuddering breath, suddenly all too aware of her heart hammering away beneath her chest at high speed.

Clara schooled her features and strode away down the halls towards her temporary quarters, form tensing and pace quickening all the way.

_ The diving competition where she didn't even make it to the top ten. Looking into the mirror and wondering if she hadn't tried hard enough. _

She started running, jerking past any agents that were in the way and trying to see past her blurry vision.

_ The hiking trip where she lost track of her youngest brother, panicking and thinking that he was gone and it was all her fault, that she'd failed him. _

Her breath hitched as she dove into her bed, releasing all her armor in a flurry of red flakes that fell to the floor like autumn leaves.

_ The tortures and the knowledge after her escape that she'd failed to find him in time. _

She screamed into the pillow, hot tears welling up onto the fabric. Clara didn't know how long she lay there, pent up emotions of every kind spilling out in a fit. Then, when that grew to be too much, she threw it across the room with an indignant shriek, panting and sweating.

Her tantrum faded, and Clara numbly retrieved her pillow and attempted to get some sleep, but every time she slipped under, visions of blood, death and  _ failure _ haunted her mind. She woke in a cold sweat, feeling even more exhausted than she was previously, and stared at the ceiling with red rimmed eyes.

Seemingly at odds with her tired mental state, her blood roared cheerfully beneath her skin, invigorating the rest of her body into a energetic mess. Great. Couldn't sleep, and it was- yup, two in the morning, go figure. Might as well get up, maybe she could find something to punch.

She dressed in tight leggings and a tank top, pulling a thin layer of armor over the entire thing. Wasn't looking to be fancy, but she certainly didn't need anyone staring straight at her scars, reminding the hemokinetic of more unpleasant things.

The helicarrier halls were barren at this time of night, creating a sort of creepy air as her lone footsteps echoed off the metal walls. Thankfully, there were maps of the ship posted at nearly every corner so Clara didn't lose her way to the gym aboard the carrier.

Maybe punching something would exhaust her enough to sleep. Maybe...it would help her destress?

A quiet  _ shink _ followed the opening of steel plate door, a hail of dull thuds and panting coming through. It was revealed to be a certain Black Widow, red hair flying as she beat and thrashed a punching bag. It was sent flying off of the hook with one last high kick, chains clinking as it bit the dust.

Clara stepped past the sweating assassin, a wry smile forming on her lips. “Can't sleep either, Romanoff?”

Romanoff whipped her tresses out of her face, gesturing to the pile of similar bags in the corner, each pretty thoroughly worn in. “Would I be here if I could, Wessling?”

She shrugged, pulling up a navy blue one and hanging it up. “For all I know you enjoy being up at weird hours of the night. Do black widows do that?”

“Well, the actual spiders, anyway,” Clara amended, settling into a kickboxing stance she'd learned in her teenage years.

The agent raised an eyebrow. “Do I look like an entomologist to you? And that stance is terrible.”

Her cheeks reddened indignantly, and instead of sputtering chose to pummel the bag in front of her. Blood gauntlets cushioned the blows Clara rained down on the target, her momentary embarrassment slowly changing into her brewing anger and resentment.

So her stance was wrong. Not anything to be surprised at, considering it'd been so long since her last lesson. But...it seemed like that was just one more thing on the pile that Clara had tried and failed to get right.

She churned out a long blade from her arm, savagely slicing it in two. Bloody spikes shot through it from every angle until it resembled a porcupine more and more with every passing second.

“Pretty sure that thing is dead as a doornail.”

“Nobody asked you, Romanoff,” Clara growled out.

“Nobody’s asking a lot of things,” the agent said simply, peeling away from the wall in a sexy looking way, waggling her hips seductively.

_ Dang, what I wouldn't do for curves like that _ , she thought suddenly. Scarlett Johansson really did her justice onscreen.

“What do you want?” she finally sighed tiredly, finally facing the assassin wearily.

The woman circled around like a hungry jaguar, Black Widow's eyes flashing dangerously. “Was it true, everything you said on the quinjet?”

Clara's face briefly contorted in agony, phantom sensations of stinging whips and crackling burns. “Everything.”

Romanoff's expression never changed, simply keeping the blank face she'd donned. “Hmm,” she hummed in acknowledgement. “My condolences for the things you've been put through.”

“Thanks…?” she muttered, suddenly unsure. What was the agent's game?

The other woman only smiled, traveling over to the fridge by the other end of the room, opening the door and ducking her head inside. “You want anything?” Came the muffled voice of Romanoff.

Clara still stared wearily, but suddenly decided _ , Screw it, might as well humor her. _ “Got any Sprite in there? I'm dying for some sugar. Oh, and maybe some nachos if you have em.”

“Here, catch.” A can was flung her way at high speed, and it was only thanks to her blood she caught it from hitting her face. “Also, this is SHIELD. Why would they carry nachos?”

She sent a glare at the thoroughly shaken pop. “You guys had freaking shawarma. Don't tell me they don't have something as basic as chips and melted cheese.”

“Fair point.” The redhead came back over with a can of her own, some brand Clara didn't recognize, and sat in a folding chair and beckoned to its neighbor.

Again, screw it. They both sat back in a comfortable silence, sipping at their own drinks occasionally.

Romanoff seemed...almost peaceful this way, her tension melting into a relaxed position. From what Clara could remember, the woman had practically been raised from infancy to be a spy and assassin. She couldn't really imagine such a life affording such luxuries as breaks, so it made a bit of sense.

Why was she doing this though? Black Widow didn't really do anything without a reason. Or at least, that was Clara's assumption.

Augh, trying to think like this made her brain twist into a proverbial pretzel.

Her mind went adrift, and she receded her armor enough to finger the scarring around her wrists. The pink rings were still healing, not even a month enough time to fade. They stung of failure.

“You know,” Romanoff said suddenly, “I actually admire that bit about you, Wessling.”

Clara startled, covering the scars back up. “Wha- why on earth would you?” She demanded hotly. “You heard what happened. They tortured me. I failed. How is that a good freaking thing to look up to?!”

“The fact that they didn't break you.”

She was taken aback, blinking owlishly. “Um. Explain a bit more, please?”

Romanoff tilted her head back. “I've had my fair share of interrogations, and... unpleasant coercions happen, on both sides. Some people just have that spark of defiance that doesn't get suffocated, no matter how hard they get pushed.”

“And you think I have that.”

“Well, you're here, aren't you?” The agent pointed out. “Despite the things that happened, you didn't give up. You're still trying, in your strange, stubborn way. You've got to admire that.”

Her cheeks heated. “Um. Thanks.”

“But that doesn't mean I like you or trust you.”

“Hey-!”

“You're a ghost without any records, past, or anything that SHIELD could dig up.” A sip. “Wessling, you basically exist as an Avenger at the grace of Fury. Try not to screw it up, cause you don't have anything else.”

Well, that was a fantastic pill to swallow. “It probably wouldn't help my case if I mention that I'm from a different dimension.”

“Not really.”

“Cut me some slack here!”

“Slack has been cut. And you're going down with it.”

“Then I'm going down in a blaze of frickin’ glory, Romanoff!”

 

* * *

 

The next morning was a bustle of activity. Really, it had to be to keep a ship the size of the helicarrier running properly, with how big the thing was. Probably over a thousand operators at the very least at any one time.

Clara made her way to the labs early in the day, a cheery grin taking up the better part of her face. She enthusiastically greeted those random people in the halls who didn't seem too busy, occasionally even giving out compliments.

Oh, she'd missed this! As she entered the laboratory, she shot Stark some finger guns. “Hey Tin Man! How are things going?”

The genius couldn't help but shoot Clara a pair back, her grin and enthusiasm infectious. “Hey Sangrita! Been just fine. Brucie-boy is around, still trying to locate the tesseract.”

Stark had his hands deep in some contraption, maybe a part of his armor? Seems like he was just tinkering around.

“And the scepter?” she asked, a little apprehensive.

The genius waved her off. “Put the thing under some lead layers in a box. The blue stick of destiny puts out gamma radiation, so I figured that'd stop whatever ambient freaky mind voodoo it could do.”

“Cool. And, uh…any ideas on the mind control? Uh, how to break it, I mean,” Clara amended.

“Well, we can always try clocking the Dark Prince of Emo upside the head really hard,” Stark suggested helpfully. “Or the rest of his goons, like Barton, whenever they turn up.”

“But would that be enough?” The solution he presented  _ did _ sound familiar, but it was one thing to knock out a normal human guy. When you put a superhuman alien into the equation, how hard would you have to hit? And there was always the issue of if they hit too hard and...bad things happened.

But…there was always the scepter itself. The source of the mind control. Was there any reason they couldn't destroy it at the origin point, by say, taking out the Mind Stone completely? It could be like killing a signal by turning off the station itself. All the receivers would fail to get said signal, making the “channel” go offline, or the controlled people.

It could take out three birds with one Stone if she was right! Barton and Selvig might be freed just like Loki, thus preventing the Chitauri invasion completely.

Clara slammed her fist into her palm, grin returning full force. “I might just have an idea!’

 

* * *

 

 

Aliens, Clara decided, were always going to be a pain. Some were just headstrong, stubborn bulls like Thor and Loki. Those ones she could even grow to like. But others were like that bloody a-hole  _ Thanos _ and his henchmen, sadistic, insane, and particularly hard to put down like the rabid dogs they were.

That seemed to be reflected in the architecture and weapons of the Mad Titan. The Mind Stone staff seemed to be incredibly tough, the alien metallurgy some kind of highly scratch and heat resistant material, and just  _ would not cut. _

She let out another scream of frustration as the high powered laser  _ again _ failed to pierce the surface, simply leaving it covered in a layer of soot. Tony himself frowned in consternation, grumbled, then cranked up the power another notch. The laser brightened, and the heat began to climb so high that Clara could even feel it from across the room.

The metal started glowing a light orange. Her heart leapt in her chest, leaning forwards against the observation window. Could this actually do it?

The plasma roared as the metal began to bubble and part before it's might, and blue sparks started flying everywhere. The Mind Stone casing glowed dangerously and cracked, the electric azure shining through the glass. A note of apprehension began in her gut, but still, she held her place at the window.

It was only when a desperate scream, so familiar and  _ heart-wrenching _ it brought back unpleasant memories of the  _ blackdarknessalone- _ ness of the Void, that Clara ripped herself from the glass and sprinted towards the noise without thinking. All she knew was that something  _ terrible  _ was happening.

_ “No no no no no!”  _ she yelled as it led her towards the detention block of the helicarrier, growing louder with each passing second. The doors slid open, revealing a panicking Thor anxiously straddling the edge of Loki's cell, relief bathing his features when she arrived.

“Lady Wessling!” He said urgently, beckoning her over.

Clara's heart plunged into her stomach. The screams were  _ Loki's _ , the man collapsed to the floor of his cell and gripping his head tightly, like he was nursing the mother of all headaches. His skin was pale and slicked with runny sweat, body quivering like a leaf with the agonizing shrieks he was producing. The eyes were were the worst though, with them flickering rapidly between green and blue and trembling at some unseen object. They squinted shut in sheer pain as yet another raw noise ripped its way from his throat.

_ Oh stars.  _ Horror thrummed through her, only able to think one thing:  _ This is all my fault. I hurt him  _ **_again._ **

“What should we do?” Thor asked frantically. “I don't know how to disengage the cell. The Furious one said that it would fall if anything were to so much as break the glass!”

“We get him outta there!” She hissed, blood whips writhing. The red liquid was sent into the cracks of the door and wormed into the machine, jamming into the releasing mechanisms and crystallizing over them in a thick layer. “Now, Thor!”

Mjolnir struck the front door with a hard swing, glass breaking in a web. Another completely shattered it, scattering bits of the clear substance everywhere. The entire cell shuddered warningly, but Clara concentrated, straining to keep the mechanisms locked. A bead of sweat ran down her forehead.

Thor wasted no time diving through the opening and scooping up his little brother in his strong arms. The floor creaked dangerously, but the Thunder God was out before anything else could happen.

Loki looked even more terrible than even a minute prior, breaths shortening and eyes dilated, before giving one last ear-piercing shriek and going limp. Her eyes widened, panic flowing through her veins.

“Give him to me! We need to get him to the medbay!” Clara yelled, blood slithering around the unconscious god and wrenching him from Thor's arms.

She accelerated her blood, forcing more oxygen in at a rapid pace as she shot down the halls.

 

* * *

 

 

_ The world was a haze of blue, the ethereal hooks tearing at his mind as they faded and reformed repeatedly in some sort of sick dance. Each time was pure agony on his sense of self as the hooks yanked one way and him in another until it felt like he was being wrenched in twine, unable to think or breathe. _

_ Primal emotions tore through his wounded mental landscape, confusion and terror the prime perpetrators of the distant screams he was sure were his own. The blue was suffocating him, drowning him repeatedly over and over and over as it tried to keep him in its thrall. Still, he fought against it, he couldn't be under it again, he  _ **_couldn't-_ **

_ And then with a far off tinkling, the oppressive blue  _ **_vanished_ ** _ and he could breathe again,  _ **_think_ ** _ again. His mindscape throbbed from the psychic wounds, but it was nothing compared to the previous. He could hear voices talking now, familiar ones. _

_ They were calling his name, and he struggled to claw his way out of that pit he'd been forced into, scaling the scabbing interior of his subconscious to the light that was ever distant at the top. He was exhausted from the effort, not even halfway there, but still, he persevered, until at last he could stretch forth his hand into that blinding beacon of hope above. _

_ And Loki  _ woke.

Everything hurt. His skin prickled unpleasantly with the phantom sensation of knives cutting across, making Loki give a faint shudder. His limbs felt heavy and weak, like someone had come along and implanted portions of lead along his skeleton. The worst had to be his skull, pounding like a drum and splitting at the same time with the most agonizing headache he'd ever had the grace of receiving.

Norns, Loki felt like death.

With a light groan that throbbed his raw throat, he forced his eyelids open, blurry lights invading his vision. He blinked and squinted, something coming into focus. A pale face, littered with what seemed like hardened blood, umber eyes gazing right back into his leafy green ones worriedly. Groggily, he observed the medical room he was resting in, Midgardian devices humming and beeping every so often.

He took a deep, trembling breath as he noticed the manacles that chained him to the bed, but reminded himself that this was  _ not  _ Sanctuary, he was safe and still could use his magic and…

“Are you...are you alright?” came the soft voice beside him.

Lady Clara. That's who sat in front of him now, clenching one of Loki's hands in hers. He recalled faint images of her clad in red armor, a desperate look on her face, of her revealing terrible scarrings she bore on her body-

Oh Norns, what had he done?

That familiar self loathing reared its ugly head, the whispers of  _ monster _ roaring in his ears, flashes of him stabbing and maiming and  _ killing _ mortals indiscriminately coming to the forefront of his mind. Tears began streaking his face, agonizing sobs ripping from his trembling lips.

“How could a-a  _ monster _ such as myself be okay?” Loki rasped, clenching a blanket between his fingers. “J-just a monster.”

Clara cupped his face between her hands, her own tears starting to fall onto the medical bed. He swallowed deeply, the fear of affirmation strong. Did she finally realize that there was nothing worth saving in this wretched man-  _ monster _ before her? That she was better off leaving for her own safety?

Lied to, cast out, abandoned, used. This was to be the final tale of Loki, the villain formed of hurt, spite and his own weakness.

“N-no Loki, you're _not._ _You're not a monster at all,”_ she whispered fervently, gently pressing their foreheads together, like that time so long ago. “You fought and fought and _struggled_ against Thanos to the bitter end. You _tried your hardest_. No monster would do that.”

“How can you-?” His breath hitched in his throat. “How can you know? How can you know that it's not my fault, for being so  _ weak and pathetic,”  _ he spat, “to let the Titan take my mind and my being? For letting myself become that  _ monster _ that tried to hurt you?”

She gave a choked, bitter laugh, another series of droplets coming down. “No, if anything it's  _ my _ fault, you idiot,” Clara  muttered self deprecatingly.

That sent a note of confusion through Loki, and he finally got the courage to look back into her eyes. They were brown pools of self loathing, shine dulled to a point where they looked like murky ponds of mud. That look was so foreign, so  _ wrong _ to have on her face. He wanted to take it away, put it back on him where it belonged. Not on this bright mortal.

“Why in the Nine Realms would it be  _ your _ fault?” he questioned, bewildered eyes searching her own for some kind of answer.

“I-” Clara's breath hitched slightly, and a thick waterfall of tears began streaking down her face. “I knew what was gonna happen, and-and I blabbed my big mouth in front of the ugly purple prune and I should've been stronger! I got out at least a month before  _ this, _ ” her arms flailed wildly, “and y-you were still stuck in there cause I wasn't strong enough, and so  _ this still happened _ , _  and I-I was too weak to save you!”  _ She screamed desperately, blood rippling anxiously. Her eyes went wide, shocked at her own outburst before turning away.

“Clara.” She refused to look at him. “Clara Wessling, by the  _ Norns _ you are going to look me in the eye!” Loki commanded.

The young woman sniffled, finally jerking her teary eyes back towards him. “I don't blame you,” he said more gently. “If anything, you succeeded, didn't you? You broke the hold of the Mind Stone, however in Yggdrasil you did  _ that,” _ Loki snorted, “but you-” his face soured briefly, pride taking a sting, “-you  _ saved  _ me.”

Big, ugly tears welled up in her lashes, spilling down the sides of her face. A strangled sob escaped the girl-  _ yes she was just a girl, how could he forget she was so young- _ and they embraced each other tenderly, Loki ripping through the cuff to pull both his own arms around Clara.

He steadfastly ignored the twinging pain in his ribs at the motion.

Sorrow coiled in his gut for the sorry state of his friend. “You thought you'd lost me, didn't you.”

Another shudder crawled through her form, and Loki began rubbing circles into her back comfortingly, like that time in the Void so long ago. They only had each other in their shared experiences. He blinked back his own tears. It wouldn't do to break down now.

“I-I kept th-thinking that you were  _ dying _ and it was all my fault, or that som-something  _ I  _ did killed you a-aand…oh s-stars you're  _ here _ and not s-some freaky puppet anymore!” she screamed hoarsely into his shoulder.

“I can vouch that it wasn't pleasant in the least.”

A choked laugh escaped her. “Service, zero out of five s-stars. No, make that a negative  _ million.” _

They stared at each other, gazing deep into the other's eyes, before the silence was broken by a teary giggle from Clara.

“You-your  _ face!  _ Is so  _ dumb  _ looking sometimes, _ ” _ Clara choked back more laughter.

“Is this really the time for that?”

“It's always time to laugh at your stupid face.”

A sly smile crossed his face, before twisting into a mock-offended expression. “Oh, you wound me! This face was carefully crafted by the gods themselves, so you would do well to watch your tongue.”

A true smile stretched across her face, becoming a grin even as tears still leaked from her eyes. “We’re just a mess, aren't we?"

“If you say so, milady.”

A footstep echoed in the room, and heads turned to see a particularly tense looking Thor entering. Both friends stiffened in apprehension, a cold rage growing in Loki's belly.

How  _ dare _ he come in here. His hands curled protectively around the woman in his arms, gaze sharpening into a glare.

“...Loki.”

“Thor.”

But before any confrontation could happen, a little tubby mortal bustled in and shoved a surprised God of Thunder back out into the hallway. She was dressed in a clean tunic and trousers, a medical instrument hanging from her neck and a look of determination on her face.

“Honey, now's not the time for this!” The woman scolded, shutting the door briskly. Her eyes settled on Clara, who had frozen with a strained smile on her face. “You too, little lady. This Loki here has got…”

The doctor bent down to the foot of the bed, retrieving a board of a sort that held a sheaf of papers. “Fractured ribs, some nasty infections on the back, high blood pressure, not to mention all the other things going on.”

Clara looked like she wanted to protest, but thought better of it when she glanced back at Loki, a look of slight sorrow in her eyes. Clearly, she still blamed herself for this, even after the earlier outburst. “I guess I'll go then.”

She strolled out, pausing only to reply, “Don't hesitate to call for me if you need me, kay?”

Loki gave a smirking salute as the door closed behind her with a faint click. It immediately transformed into a scowl as the nurse began fussing over his injuries with a fervor that it seemed only mortals could make.


	8. Of Frustrations and Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fury confronts Clara and a pair of brothers have a heart to heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...well, this was a struggle to write. People like Loki are hard to get just right, but I think I might've done good. 
> 
> Comment and subscribe pretty please? 😚

“So, what's up?.”

"Banner found the Tesseract and stuff. So that's cool. It was on my tower of all places, how about that? And Loki's mind controlled bosom buddies flailing around with giant headaches too."

“And? Anything else you want to share with the class?"

"Umm...the weather is pretty today?"

“It's kinda obvious. Tony, don't even try to hide those blue bits behind you! And the pout won't work, I've had siblings before!”

The genius just sighed as he dropped his immature expression, edging away from the table to reveal a pile of sparkly dust. "Fine! The thing basically disintegrated as soon as the laser breached the casing. Which I don't get how that kinda thing could happen anyway, freaky alien tech…"

The Stark got a small vacuum from somewhere and started vacuuming up the scepter debris, muttering under his breath the entire way. The Mind Stone was gently nudged away with the tip of the device, the ancient artifact innocently glowing a soft, sunshine yellow, practically screaming 'Touch me, I won't do anything wrong!'. She nervously edged away from it, memories rippling under the surface unpleasantly.

_ -blood spurting from every orifice as she shook and screamed for Loki, for  _ anybody  _ to help- _

She shuddered and clenched her fists, digging crescent moons into her palms that only added to the blood shuddering across and beneath her skin.

“What do we do with it?”

And that was the grand old question. Canon was basically screwed at this point for stuff like Ultron or Vision, but Clara found she didn't really mind. Maybe Loki had rubbed off on her more than she'd thought, with wanting to make her own fate or something like that. Screwing destiny and all that.

Look at her, waxing philosophical. But honestly, she had zero clue what should happen to it. Maybe she should ask Loki for advice. If he wasn't sleeping or something.

“Well...wait, don't do that you idiot!” Tony tried to prod the Stone with finger, only to have his hand slapped back by a tendril of blood and letting out a faint yelp.

He rubbed at the reddened spot and send a scowl to Clara. “What was that for?!”

“If you even try to touch it, an Infinity Stone can basically overload your body with the sheer power and you'll  _ die. _ Like blow you apart at the  _ molecular level _ die. _ ” _

“Wait, serious?” A bewildered look was sent at the yellow rock innocently shining on the table. “Well, Cthulu rocks exist. I don't even know why I'm surprised at this point, what with the alien gods, green rage monsters and junk.”

"Just don't poke it! It's freaky enough as is, with all the glowing and stuff. Wasn't it radioactive or something?" Clara pulled her hair back with a hand, bending over and examining it. "Maybe we can get some vibranium lined with lead to keep this in?" she muttered quietly. It'd held up really well in Endgame, after all.

But Wakanda was still isolated, so that idea was pretty much immediately out. She'd really like to meet Shuri and T'Challa though, especially the little genius herself. They had some really cool stuff that would be downright awesome to see in real life.

That made Tony snort a little. "Wanna just call up Spangles? Ask if he'd like to donate his shield to science with a pair of puppy eyes?"

She deflated and sent an unamused look his way. "For all we know, we might. Maybe Loki or Thor will have a better idea, given that they're aliens."

"So it worked then?" The genius smirked. "How's your space boyfriend doing now? Got the mind whammy whammied out?"

Her  _ what?!  _ Clara's face flushed beet red, umber eyes wide and started stuttering like a stalling engine. "W-wwhat?! We're n-not like that at  _ all!" _ she stammered pathetically. "J-just  _ friends! Friends, okay?!" _

"Whatever keeps you up at night!" Stark said brightly, stalking around her in circles, a glint of smugness in his eyes. He was playing her, dangit! How did she get so flustered so easily?!

The woman simply hid her crimson face in her hands, groaning. "I wanna die…"

Tony burst out laughing, a full bellied sound that rang through the air melodically. The humour was infectious, and soon Clara found herself joining him, giggling until they were both wheezing and the out of breath.

"You're too easy to tease!" He huffed, patting her shoulder appreciatively. "I like you kid, I really do. And hey, after all this blows over, if you don't have a place to crash, come by my tower. I can definitely spare the room."

She froze, unsure if she'd heard him correctly. He wanted  _ Clara  _ to hang around  _ him,  _ Tony Freaking Stark?! The inept, weak, scared woman was being invited into the home of one of the greatest heroes of all time. All because he liked her?

"A-are you  _ serious?"  _ she squeaked, before narrowing her eyes at the mechanic. "You're not pulling my leg?"

"Nope!" He spouted with that signature Stark grin. "Sangrita, when the genius billionaire playboy philanthropist says something, he sticks by it."

Clara stared into Tony's brown orbs, full of confidence and self assuredness. And honesty. He really, truly meant his promise. A warmth filled her chest, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes and blinking quickly.

"I guess the legendary Tony Stark does have a heart after all," the hemokinetic mumbled, cheeks gaining a faint pink tinge.

_ When was the last time someone had been this kind? _

She couldn't remember. At any rate, Tony started practically choking on denials-  _ "What heart, where? I just have a gaping black hole where that would go, no-siree!" _ -and Clara burst back into laughter, only to be rudely interrupted.

A booming voice came over the helicarrier intercoms, full of hidden threats. "Wessling, please report to my office immediately for a little chat on responsibility."

Why did she have a bad feeling about this?

 

 

* * *

 

 

Nick Fury bore a hole into Clara with his one good eye, glare a piercing dagger. She nervously fidgeted with her hair, fingers playing with the strands uncomfortably. The loud ticking of a clock in the background only served to aggravate her further, any sense of confidence she'd built before coming inside shattered.

_ Tick. Tock. _

"Um."

"You know why you're here, Wessling."

Augh. His disappointed stare intensified, and Clara finally caved. "I'm sorry I kind of sort of broke your high tech Hulk cage?" she said meekly, wincing in preparation for the inevitable anger.

His face twisted into a distasteful glare. He  _ really _ didn't like her, Clara finally realized, gut wrenching. The director probably saw her as some sort of liability at this point, constantly getting into trouble and breaking things.

Well, jokes on Fury, cause she didn't like him either, with his freaking shadowy organization hiding Hydra that somehow  _ nobody _ had seen. Freaking spies.

"Sorry doesn't cut destroying SHIELD property. Especially not when it involves breaking out a known hostile!" Fury shouted, slamming his hands on the table.

"Loki needed medical attention immediately! Plus, you know that he was-"

"Under mind control. Yes, you've said. But keep in mind that we only have your own word to go on for this." A lighter flipped into his palm, thumb flicking the cap on and off, as if bored. "The physical evidence you practically flashed my agent with is enough to show that there's something else going on, but isn't nearly enough to convince people like my higher ups that Loki should be let go."

The fires of her rage cooled a bit at the disdained expression Fury wore at the mention of the World Security Council. Urgh, at least they could agree on something. Those pricks had launched a freaking nuke at New York in the movies. Literally no one decent could do a thing like that.

_ Yet another reminder in the ever growing pile that despite fan depictions, the MCU is anything but rainbows. _

"And interrogating him might give a corroborating story, but our little alien prince has a reputation as a liar for a reason, Wessling. I can't do anything for you at the moment, and you just keep making more and more messes." He leaned forwards, snapping the lighter shut one final time. "So what do you have to say for yourself?"

Her mouth went dry and her mind blanked at being put on the spot, but somehow she managed to wrangle together a coherent sentence. "A flerken named Goose put out your left eye."

Fury's good one widened a fraction before narrowing. Clara took no heed, barreling forwards as information started gushing out like a breached dam. It was all or nothing at this point.

"It ate the Tesseract at one point. You were also in contact with a woman named Carol Danvers, aka Captain Marvel, who lost her memories of being a pilot and was basically abducted into serving the Kree after she went amnesiac," the woman blurted, before adding, "oh, and you've got a fancy pager that can contact her from like a galaxy away somehow. So I got your attention yet, Captain Hook?"

That eye became a slit that was filled with some kind of emotion she couldn't decipher. "Loud and clear. I'd like to ask how you got that kind of information, because a lot of that is either classified or impossible to know."

For some reason Clara relaxed, shrugging and sending Fury a smug look. "I dunno, being from a different dimension and all. I know a lot more than just that, Furiosa. The question is, will you actually listen for once?"

"Romanoff mentioned that. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't throw you in an interrogation chamber  _ right now _ and rip all that info from you, missy?"

_ Oh stars. History repeats itself. _

Clara just laughed, ignoring the chilling ice that shot up her spine in remembrance of such a similar situation. "Buddy, Thanos tried the same thing and he couldn't break me. For another, all that precious future knowledge would go straight to the Hydra lurking in your basement if you did."

_ Please please please don't call my bluff. Just give me this, universe? _

His whole face finally went slack with shock, and Clara  _ really _ wished she still had a phone, because his expression was priceless. Would've made some good blackmail. Then it hardened back into that professional face of his, lighter casing bending under his grip.

"I'm listening."

Freaking finally. If the world wasn't at stake, Clara wouldn't have dared to trust Fury as far as she could throw him, but there wasn't really any choice in the matter. Her mouth opened and out poured the secrets she'd nearly died to keep silent.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Green mist lazily swam away from his fingers, forming illusory birds that twittered melodically atop his thin hands. A sigh escaped Loki, full of hidden frustration and very clear boredom. The avian constructs simply chirped and hopped about according to his will, feathers becoming ruffled with his increasing suffocation in the hideous hospital.

He'd only humored the mortal nurse for as long as this because otherwise Clara would wring his neck for neglecting his health. Not that he'd actually  _ had _ the chance to do so lately, Loki remembered, the blue power of the scepter too busy stringing him along by his darkest desires to make him care about such things.

And that was just the issue, wasn't it? It wasn't as simple as mind control in his case, though it was extremely similar. The Infinity Stone had wrenched the deep, dark and emotionally volatile portion of himself out into the light and magnified it somehow, yanking the part that had actually still  _ cared _ , not hated his own brother (and yes, Loki still considered that utter oaf his family), down and trapped it deep within.

But it had still  _ been him _ committing those acts upon the race of mortals that had brought Loki the Clara that had  _ listened _ , had believed in him despite, well,  _ everything _ . The ugly guilt burned deep within him again, and he grimaced, dispelling the birds with a clenched fist. He was not innocent.

Loki, despite Clara's assurances otherwise, was still a monster. Except it wasn't just by the race he had been born to, but down to his very  _ soul _ . A shriveled, blackened thing trying to pretend it was something otherwise.

His healed ribs ached with phantom pains, nails digging crescent moons into his palms. He'd deserved all of the things Thanos had put him through. For both his nature and his own weakness.

"A prince, brought as low as this," Loki muttered sullenly, laying back against the bed. A broken chuckle escaped him. "A prince of monsters, more like."

A gentle knock from the door echoed through the stuffy room, the injured god stiffening. Who could it be this time? He then sighed as he realized that only one person would dare to come in at this late hour.

"Come in," Loki finally called out, collapsing to the mattress beneath him.

The door almost hesitantly eased open, Thor's pale blue eyes full of worry and...shame? If it was in having Loki as a brother, he didn't suppose he could blame him. He was already plenty ashamed in himself.

"Brother…Loki." Thor's eyes went to the floor as he stepped in and took a nearby seat, face twisting in many different emotions again. "I...don't know what to say."

"Then why are you here?" Came the scathing reply, out before Loki could even think. "Come to stare at the broken Jotun like some animal?"

"...Not at all. I just…" Thor groaned and ran his fingers through his long blonde locks in frustration. "I just- I...words fail me right now, I was never as talented in that area as you, Loki."

That got a bitter laugh out of him. "And you finally admit it! The great Thor, letting the world know he's not impossibly perfect? Perish the thought!"

Sharp green eyes stared at the other, almost expectant of an ego induced bellow of rage to fill the room. Thor had always been quick to offense at any insult, barreling ahead regardless of the consequences, such as that last time on Jotunheim. Surprisingly though, he simply chuckled sorrowfully.

"I really was a fool, wasn't I?" The crown prince lamented."I've wronged you terribly over the years, pushing you to the shadows and- I wasn't there when you needed me, in Asgard."

That anger smoldered within Loki again, a scowl overtaking his face. "What right do you have to feel sorry after all this time, after everything?! After all the times you told me to 'know my place'? After-" the words lodged in his throat, "- _ I fell?!  _ But you are right on one thing- you weren't there when I was careening through the Void, when I had my body tortured and my mind  _ violated beyond comprehension!" _

He shuddered as phantom feelers seemed to dig once more into Loki's soul, twisting and pulling violently. But he powered through with his rage, trembling and beginning to shed tears of indignant anger. "What r-right!" he screeched and sobbed, "do you have to care about this monstrosity that I am! Why, why do you care?!"

Yes, Loki finally realized, Thor did care, however impossible that statement sounded. As he spoke, the other prince's eyes glistened and began overflowing with his own tears.

Why did anyone care? Even Clara. Or was it all simply pity? Was it all just another lie, one that he was so  _ stupid _ to believe because he was do desperate for any crumb of affection or acceptance? If it was…he would just shatter.

"Loki... _ brother _ , we all care, from Mother to your friend and to myself. I spoke the truth when we were aboard the quinjet, that we mourned. When you...I failed to catch you, I…" Thor's own words seemed to stick in his throat, eyes closing as he shuddered as if in utter agony. "Nightmares were a common occurrence. Mother refused to leave her chambers for weeks, Father dove into politics as he tried to cope. And despite what you may think, Odin Allfather cares for you still, brother."

_ No, Loki. _ He wanted to laugh at the thought of the Allfather truly caring, but it came out a broken sob instead, curling into the strong arms that suddenly embraced him.

"If you blame yourself f-for all this, Loki, know that it's not true. I believe the real perpetrator of all this is none other than myself."

There seemed to be an awful lot of this sort of thing going around. Perhaps something in the air, he thought wryly.

"...why?" Loki asked softly. "Why do you do this, Thor?"

The grip tightened. "Because if it wasn't for my foolhardy ways, my idiotic and stubborn pride, war with the Jotuns wouldn't have happened. I would have been there when you needed me, you wouldn't have fallen and suffered...there are many reasons."

Ah. So Thor was ashamed of  _ himself _ .

"You're hardly the only one at fault," Loki muttered dryly. "Many people acted as foolhardy as you lately, me included. But, I'll admit that you  _ were _ quite a whiny, prissy prince for quite a while."

"For once, I agree with you brother. Particularly the time in Nornheim…"

"Especially when you got Mjolnir scuffed, the sound you made. One of the better 'adventures' we had."

"Okay! I admitted that I was an idiot. No need to rub it in further."

"But brother! As your younger sibling, I  _ have  _ to embarrass you at every opportunity. Tis my sworn duty."

There was a warmth that grew within Loki's chest, like an aching hole had begun to heal. His seidr surged within his still healing body with happiness, singing at the return of this familiar practice. There was still much that needed to mend, and Loki wasn't completely sure he'd be able to forgive the years of ignorance and apathy that had occured on Thor's part. But for the moment, at least, something felt right. Felt like  _ home _ .

A loud crash echoed in the hall outside the room however, and both brothers turned in confusion in time for the door to shoot open violently. A wide eyed, seething Clint Barton stood before them, clad in nothing but a flimsy hospital gown.


End file.
